


The Things We Love

by winterfool



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Family, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 26,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfool/pseuds/winterfool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Luna x Harry drabbles written for Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reparations (of a sort)

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially I'm feeling really bad for not having updated Tomorrowland yet, so have number of Luna/Harry drabbles I wrote for prompts people sent me on Tumblr.

_Prompt: Luna finds out that Harry used to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. Even though it was a long time ago, she does her darndest to make that better._

***

"What do you think?" Luna asked, standing back to look over her work.

Splashes of brightly coloured paint were smudged over her arms, her face - some had even managed to find their way into her hair, where they stood out stark against the pale blonde - but she was smiling softly to herself as she examined her bedroom walls.

Harry knew he was probably as paint-splattered as she was, although he didn’t quite know how he had managed that since he had spent most of the day actively trying to avoid getting in Luna’s way as she painted.Nor was he entirely sure how he had ended up helping redecorate Luna’s room in the first place.

Well, to an extent. He had offered to help the Lovegoods get sorted out, but in his mind he had been thinking about rebuilding the printing press since he had been inadvertently responsible for getting it, and thus Mr Lovegood’s main source of income, destroyed. Instead when he turned up at the door Luna had grabbed his hand and pulled him up the newly renovated spiralling staircase to her room, and he had spent the day moving furniture and covering things with dust-sheets while she painted.

"It’s … it’s amazing," he said now, in all honestly, gazing at the walls.

He hadn’t been able to make out what it was she painting while she worked, only the different colours she was using - blue here, yellow there, green on top - but now that she had stepped away he could see it was the coastline at Shell Cottage, where they’d stayed with Bill and Fleur. White-tipped waves were just about to crash down on to the gold and sparkling (Harry was fairly certain she had to have used magic to get that effect) sand, while a few grey seagulls - and was that a thestral? - soared overhead. Nestled amongst tufts of grass in the foreground was Dobby’s headstone; Harry felt his throat close up and his stomach clench as he looked at it.

"It was just such a beautiful scene," Luna explained, "I thought I’d like to look at it every day."

"Yeah, I can see why." He paused for a moment, wanting to apologise for the destruction of her other painting but not sure if it would be crossing a line to admit he had been in her room and seen it. Finally he settled for just asking, "Have you always painted your own room?"

She nodded. “Ever since I was small. Mum helped me pick what I wanted at first, then she just left it to me. I had the Hogwarts Express running all around the walls for a couple of years, after my first year.”

Harry rather thought he’d have liked to have seen that, the sleek scarlet steam engine curved around Luna’s circular room.

"I’m, ah, I’m sorry it all got, you know, blown up." And that was possibly the worst apology of all time.

"It is a bit sad," she said, nodding. "There were some keepsakes I was upset to lose, but if you look at it as a fresh start it’s not so bad. And it’s always fun to decorate."

And in truth it had been a fun day, although he hadn’t entirely expected it to be. He and Luna had laughed and talked, he had sat and watched her paint with interest - she never talking about drawing, but it seemed an oddly natural part of her - and attempted to paint a little himself but only really succeeded in getting more colour on them than on the walls. Luna was such a relaxing presence, it was easy to spend time with her and forget the outside world even existed.

"Well, this was my first time decorating. But I enjoyed it."

"Didn’t you ever decorate your room at home?"

He shrugged. “No. I mean, there wasn’t much point in decorating the cupboard under the stairs and even after I moved out of there the Dursleys’ never felt like home enough for there to be a point in decorating. Everything I cared about fitted into my trunk.”

Luna was frowning at him, such an unusual expression on her that it took him a little by surprise. “The cupboard under the stairs?”

"Oh. Yeah. I slept in the cupboard under the stairs until I was … well, until my Hogwarts letters started arriving."

Her grey eyes were wide, horrified. Harry felt a stab of guilt. His unhappy childhood was just a fact for him, an old wound that had long since healed over, that he sometimes forgot it wasn’t normal. That other people had happy homes and close families, and couldn’t conceive of the way the Dursleys had treated him.

"They made you sleep in a cupboard?"

"It - it wasn’t so bad. I made friends with the spiders." Luna was still gazing at him, and Harry felt himself flushing. He jerked a hand awkwardly, trying to shrug it off. "It’s not a big deal, honestly. Not any more."

"You never had your own room?"

"I did. Sort of. They gave me my cousin’s second bedroom when I was ten. Really, Luna forget I said anything, okay?" He felt embarrassed now, to be dragging all of this up, to make Luna, the most serene person he knew, look so upset.

She pursed her lips and was clearly not reassured, but at his pleading look she slowly nodded and changed the subject to what her father was planning for the grand relaunch of the Quibbler. Harry felt his shoulders sag with relief and listened gratefully to her talk about her father’s newest article on the myriad benefits of dirigible plums. It wasn’t long until he had forgotten the incident entirely.

But Luna didn’t forget.

She thought about it long after Harry had left that day, and many times afterwards. She would catch herself watching him as he talked or laughed, and think about the brittle look in his eyes when he told her where he had slept as a child. He had said it didn’t bother him, but Luna could see that it had marked him - a mark as permanent as the lightning bolt on his forehead.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _fair_. 

Luna knew well enough that life wasn’t particularly fair, and that it had been especially harsh on Harry Potter. Most of it she could forgive, because he had. But there was something about this one thing, this one confession he made, that lodged beneath her skin and irritated away like a splinter. 

It was a few years later, when Harry bought his first house a little way outside London and she was helping him move out of Grimmauld Place, that she finally found a way to make it up to him at least a little.

He came home the Saturday after the move, tired after having been called into the Ministry for overtime work, to find Luna waiting for him in the still minimally furnished living room (he had refused to bring any of the furniture from Grimmauld Place; there were too many bad memories attached, both his and Sirius’).

"Hello," he said, bending down to kiss her, "Glad to see you’re making use of that key."

When Harry had decided to move, they had sat down and had a long talk about what that meant for their relationship. They had been a couple for nearly two years now, but they both agreed that they were too young and not quite ready for the commitment of living together. They still wanted to move forward, though, so Harry had had an extra key to his new house cut for Luna. 

"Though I’d make sure it definitely worked," she smiled. "It does. And I’ve got a surprise for you."

"Oh?"

Taking his hand, she lead him upstairs to the master bedroom. Bemused, Harry followed her inside and then stopped and looked around, nonplussed.

A little to his consternation, the plain wooden bed he’d been sleeping on over the weekend was gone. In fact the only furniture in the room was a small table with a set of paint brushes on, an open magazine and a selection of what looked like Dulux colour charts. A white tarpaulin was spread out over the floor.

"Uh, what’s this?" he asked.

"Your room. Hermione got these for me," she said, picking up the colour charts, "She said muggles use them when they’re decorating to decide what they like. You can pick whatever colour you want, or you can make up your own pictures if you like. And this," she put down the charts and lifted the magazine. Close-to, Harry saw it was a furniture magazine. Glossy pictures of beds, wardrobes, desks and night-stands covered the pages Luna flicked briefly through. "You can choose what you like and then we can conjure them. Or order them, if ours don’t turn out so well … I suppose we could try carving them but since neither of us has ever done any wood-whittling that might be a bit too complicated."

"Luna, I’m not sure I understand."

She looked up at him. “This is your first proper room, that you can make your own. It doesn’t quite make up for living in a cupboard,” she allowed, “But I thought you should get the chance to decorate your own room.”

Harry stared at her for a moment, then a smile crept across his face. Warmth spread through him and his heart seemed to swell as he looked at this girl, who would go to so much trouble because of something he had told her five years ago.

"You did all this for me because I lived in a cupboard?"

"Well. I wanted to try and make it up to you somehow."

Cupping her face in his hands, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a firm, deep kiss. When he pulled back he leaned his forehead against hers.

"Being with you makes up for every bad thing that’s ever happened in my life."


	2. A New Beginning

_Prompt: Luna and Harry's son goes off to Hogwarts._

***

"Daaad, hurry up." Even with his head inside the car boot, Harry could feel his son hopping from foot to foot with impatience. "We’re going to miss the train!"

Grunting, Harry chose not to reply while he concentrated on hefting up the second of James’ very large and very heavy trunks and getting it on to the trolley. He could feel the muscles around his shoulders pulling tight with the strain, and wished he could just use a levitation charm. As he got the trunk into place he realised James was now glaring at him with furious grey eyes and hoped his amusement didn’t show on his face.

“Dad!”

"Well, if you do miss the train," Harry said, shutting the boot and opening the back door to pull out a large cage that held James’ regal, if slightly ruffled looking, brown owl (named Hesper). "Whose fault do you think it is?"

James flushed, and had the grace to look slightly abashed - as abashed as an eleven year old with very little sense of shame could look. Voice almost too low for Harry to hear, he muttered, “I didn’t mean to lose my wand.”

"Mm-hm."

"I must have knocked it down behind my bed when I was packing."

"I know."

"I was just excited," James explained, his eyes wide but his mouth puckering to give him an odd look of mixed earnestness and defensiveness. "And it’s not like it took Mum that long to find it."

Harry nodded. It was true enough. Luna had floated into James’ room in a swirl of patchwork skirts while he and Harry were tearing it apart and told them they would never find it if they didn’t think like a wand. Apparently Luna was well versed in how wands thought, as it only took her a couple of minutes of her moving around the room with one hand outstretched as though searching for some kind of vibration before she located the missing wand lodged between the headboard of James’ bed and the wall.

"It’s where I would hide, if I was a wand," she had said, holding it out. It wasn’t until after they had packed the wand safely away in its box that she had turned to Harry and asked serenely, "Why didn’t you use a summoning charm?"

Now Harry gave his son a faint grin as he set Hesper’s cage down on top of the trunks. “True. Right. Where is your mum, anyway?”

"Warding off nargles," James shrugged, gesturing off to the side.

"Wrackspurts," Harry corrected in an absent voice as he looked around, and, sure enough, there was Luna. Stood in the middle of an empty parking spot, she was moving in a slow circle, twirling her arms above her heads. Mimicking her movements was their five year old daughter, Lily; but where Luna was gently looping her arms, Lily was wildly thrashing hers in a way that threatened to knock off the crown of flowers that was holding her long, caramel-blonde curls in place on top of her head.

A little further over Harry saw his younger son Lorcan was watching his mother and little sister with bemusement from a short way off - and occasionally reassuring passing muggles that, yes, everything really was fine.

"Same difference," James said blithely, far too used to his mother’s peculiarities to take much notice.

"Alright, we’re ready!" Harry called over to Luna, who stopped her twirling and drifted back over to them, with Lily and Lorcan trailing in her wake.

She kept drifting even as they raced through the crowds of muggles to get to the platform on time. It was a talent of hers, Harry had come to notice over the years, that even when they were hurrying she still seemed dreamily calm, with a gentle smile on her face and a spring in her step. 

"What will happen if James does miss the train, Daddy?" Lily asked from where she was perched on the end of the trolley.

"He won’t."

"But if he does?”

"He’ll get to Hogwarts somehow," Luna said, "Your father missed the train once. He flew a car there instead."

Lorcan’s green eyes widened. “You _flew_ a car?”

"Technically Uncle Ron flew the car," Harry said, "But we shouldn’t have done it. So don’t get any ideas, James," he added sharply, causing his elder son to scowl. "Anyway, you’re not going to miss the train. Because we’re here."

They had finally come to the plastic barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. James’ scowl melted away and he once again started hopping from foot to foot, as though there was too much excitement to be contained in his body.

"Right, ready?"

Luna went through first, with Lily on her hip and holding Lorcan’s hand. Then Harry and James followed, pushing his trunk together. 

A wave of nostalgia washed over Harry as they emerged on the other side. The bright, gleaming scarlet stream engine was just the same, the gold lettering as new as the first time Harry had set foot on this platform. He could hardly believe he’d been as young as the crowds of students milling around, eagerly talking, saying goodbye to their parents and hefting their trunks on to the carriages.

Before they could start towards the carriages themselves, however, they were swooped down on by a tall figure with a shock of electric blue hair.

"There you are!" Teddy Lupin grinned broadly at them, "I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it, squirt."

"Teddy!" Lily squealed, throwing her arms out towards her god-brother.

Laughing, Teddy swept her up into a hug and span her around, making her giggle in delight.

With a smile, Luna explained, “James’ wand decided to hide from us this morning.”

"Ah. Nargles?"

"Possibly."

Teddy nodded in understanding as he set Lily back down on her feet and reached out to ruffle Lorcan’s and then James’ hair. “Well, I’ve got a carriage with Vic and Dom near the back of the train. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led them across the platform, around several groups of students and parents, many of whom had begun to notice Harry and were nudging each other, whispering in low voices. That he would always draw attention was something Harry had come to accept, but time had mellowed the interest in him and his own maturity had made it easier to bear. The worst of it was that it would follow his children as well, and he hoped James’ time at Hogwarts wouldn’t be quite as attention-filled as his had been. At least he had Teddy and the older Weasley cousins to watch out for him, not to mention Hagrid and Neville, now Professor of Herbology and Head of Gryffindor. 

The carriage Teddy had claimed was a little more than halfway down the train. Bill and Fleur were on the platform outside, saying goodbye to their two daughters. They greeted the Potters with smiles and hugs, and Bill helped Harry lift James’ luggage into the racks.

"Well, then," Harry said, stepping back down on to the platform and resting a hand on James’ shoulder. "You’re all set."

James looked between the train and his father, and abruptly the excitement seemed to drain out of him. His smile faded to a nervous line and he became very still and quiet, his eyes round and slightly fearful.

"I’m leaving," he said in a hushed voice. 

Harry dropped down to one knee, and looked him steadily in the eye. “Only for a little while. You’ll be back for Christmas - and by then you won’t want to come home.”

"I won’t?"

"You’ll be having too much fun," Harry smiled. 

The corners of James’ mouth flicked upwards. “But you’ll write?”

"Every week." Luna’s soft voice made them both look up. She reached out and brushed James’ black curls away from his face. "Every day if you want."

"I know it seems scary, going away from home," Harry said, "But once you get there and make friends you’ll wonder why you were ever scared at all."

"Here." Luna had pulled her butterbeer cork necklace off and now slipped it over James’ head. "To keep away the nargles."

Smiling properly now, James wound his arm around his mother’s waist and squeezed her tightly. Then, pulling back, he turned to hug Harry. Feeling the small arms around his neck, Harry couldn’t help but think of the first time he had held his son, a tiny, pink-faced bundle in the hospital, small enough to fit in both of his hands. The memory made him feel reluctant to let James go at all, but he knew he had to.

At least he was glad to see that some of James’ excitement had returned as he said goodbye to his little brother and sister before joining Teddy and the others on the train. 

But as the train pulled away, even with James waving happily out the window, he felt a little bereft and a little jealous. He was glad of the comfort that came with Luna slipping her fingers into his, resting her chin on his shoulder, and whispering, “He’ll be fine. And so will we.”

Of course he would be fine. He was going to Hogwarts.


	3. Cooking Curiosities

_Prompt: Luna and Harry trying to decide what type of food to have for dinner, and Luna trying to persuade Harry to try some of the food combinations she's thought of over the years._

***

Standing in front of the open fridge, Harry had to admit he was facing a challenge. An egg carton with a single egg sat lonely on the top shelf, a block of parmesan cheese, a couple of onions and a nearly empty tub of grapes on the shelf below, and an actually empty bottle of milk on the shelf in the door.

With a frown, he closed the fridge and tried the cupboards but there was if possible even less there: a half-finished loaf of bread, a packet of dried spaghetti, and a tub of chocolate spread. The only other food in the kitchen was a banana in the bottom of the fruit bowl.

"We really need to go shopping," Harry murmured to himself, then called more loudly into the living room, "I think we might need to order a take-away."

"Why?" Luna called back, then the next minute appeared in the doorway.

Harry shrugged. “Well … there’s nothing here.”

He opened one of the drawers beside the sink and started rifling through the take away leaflets he kept there. There were a mix of magical and muggle ones; the magical restaurants were usually quicker, but the spells they used to instantly transport the food to their customers sometimes did funny things to the taste, so Harry had taken to keeping a small stash of muggle money around and ordering muggle take-aways instead. Pulling out one for a local Italian place, he turned back to see Luna peering into the fridge.

"There’s not nothing," she said.

"Not enough for a meal," Harry replied, "How does pizza sound?"

"There is. You go and sit down and I’ll cook."

Harry hesitated. The last time Luna had volunteered to make dinner she had made some strange cinnamon crab dish with an apricot jam garnish. It had been … interesting, but the flavours hadn’t exactly gone together. When he had asked Luna about it, she had it was meant to be done with chilli powder (at least that’s how she had always done it) but they had run out, so she had substituted cinnamon instead.

"It’s fine, you don’t need to go to the trouble," he tried to dissuade her now, but Luna was already pulling the cheese and the onions out of the fridge. "Really, I’m happy to just order pizza."

"It’s no trouble." She waved away his concerns with a cheerful smile.

Harry watched with trepidation as she took out the remainder of the bread, and then with slight confusion as she sliced the cheese and laid it out on two slices of bread, then chopped several rings of onion to place on top. Cheese and onion was … well, it was a fairly standard combination.

Then Luna reached for the chocolate spread and the lone banana. She took two more slices of bread and covered them with the chocolate, then sliced up the banana over it.

Chocolate and banana, that wasn’t unusual either. Unless - yes, she was sandwiching the chocolate-and-banana slices with the cheese-and-onion slices. Chocolate, banana, onion and parmesan. Harry tried not to wince.

”So. Sandwiches.” He tried to sound optimistic.

Luna smiled, walking over to the oven. “Grilled sandwiches.”

The smell of the onion cooking made Harry’s eyes prickle uncomfortably, like a hot scratching at the back of his eyeballs. He took his glasses off and pressed his fingers to them, trying to somehow quell the watering, and did his best not to think about how that would taste with the chocolate and banana.

When Luna held up the finished sandwiches the bread was now crisp and golden, and the cheese had melted and oozed slightly over the edges. It did look appetizing, if Harry pretended it was a normal toasted cheese sandwich without the extra ingredients.

"Go on, try it," Luna urged him.

"Luna … you do remember the ice-cream-with-mustard fiasco?" Harry asked tentatively. 

"That was a mistake," she nodded, face solemn, "But I think this will be much better. I came up with it when I was ten."

Her eyes met his and Harry gave a small sigh. Maybe one day he would learn to say no to Luna, but it wasn’t going to be today. Bracing himself, he took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. The toast crunched and gave way to hot, slightly nutty melted cheese, made tangy with the onion. Then the sweetness of the chocolate cut through, and the fruity, almost honeyed taste of the banana. The flavours blended together into a strange but not unpleasant mixture.

"Well?" Luna asked as he swallowed.

"That’s …. not bad."

She smiled brightly and gave a small, satisfied nod. Looking up at him, she said in a faintly amused voice, “So maybe you’ll let me cook more often.”

About to take another bite, Harry paused and flushed before he realised she was teasing him and grinned himself. “Well. Maybe every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”


	4. Shaking Hands

_Prompt: Harry and Luna interacting with Draco Malfoy in an at least cordial manner._

***

"Potter?"

Harry was so used to that voice addressing him in a drawling sneer that he almost didn’t recognise it, and even then he had to turn around before he believed his ears. 

In the near decade since they had left Hogwarts, he had seen Draco Malfoy less than a handful of times; Malfoy didn’t come to the memorial services held at Hogwarts each May, nor did they keep the same company. Still, it was impossible not to see each other occasionally either in Diagon Alley or formal Ministry events.

Malfoy’s hair was perhaps a little shorter, his face leaner, having lost that last trace of youth, but Harry’s old nemesis looked much the same as he had at school. The most noticeable difference was that he no longer wore the sneer that had always seemed permanently affixed to his face. 

Looking at him made Harry wonder if he seemed any different. Standing next to Luna would perhaps make him look more so, since she still had softer, slightly rounded features (a token of her recent pregnancy). 

"Malfoy." He nodded in greeting. They would never be friends, but too much had passed for them to hate each other the way they did when they were eleven, or even fifteen.

"Hello, Draco," Luna said softly, her voice amicable.

Draco gave her a small nod. “Lov - ah, Luna.”

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. He looked in perfect health, if slightly anxious, so to run into him at the entrance to St. Mungo’s Harry had to assume that he was visiting someone.

"Astoria, my wife, she’s just gone into labour."

Harry had never met Draco’s wife, although she had been at Hogwarts with them. They had been married a little over a year ago; Harry remembered hearing about it from someone at the Ministry who had been invited to the wedding receptions.

Luna smiled. “Congratulations.”

"Thank you. And, uh, is everything alright with you?"

"Oh, yes. James just decided that Lorcan’s nose would be a good place to hide his Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, so we had to get them removed." Luna looked down at the five-month-old baby in her arms. After spending the last few hours crying in discomfort Lorcan had finally quieted down, but his cheeks were still splotched with pink and his nose was bright red.

His older brother, holding tightly to Harry’s hand, scowled down at the floor. His parents hadn’t given him into trouble yet but he knew it was coming as soon as they got home - he might only have been two but he had been able to tell that his mum and dad had not been impressed when he explained that Lorcan’s nose was just the perfect size for Bertie Bott’s Beans.

"No damage done, thankfully," Harry added.

"Right." They stood for a moment in awkward silence, unsure how to either end or continue the conversation. Then Draco took a step towards the door. "Well, I should get going …"

"Yeah, so should we. Congratulations again."

Draco gave a faint, flickering smile, but it seemed so half hearted that Harry couldn’t help turning back.

"Malfoy?"

Pale pink spots had appeared at the tops of Draco’s cheeks, and he gave an embarrassed cough before mumbling quickly, as though the words were coming out in spite of himself, “I’m a little … well, nervous. About - about being a parent.”

Harry and Luna exchanged looks. 

"I think everyone is," Luna said, eyes thoughtful, "I don’t know that I felt ready. You learn to be a parent by being a parent."

"You just do the best you can." Harry had never thought the day would come when he would be giving parenting advice to Draco Malfoy.

"I don’t know that my best will ever be very good." Draco was solemn, and Harry was struck by how much more mature he looked. He wondered if perhaps they had met now, with none of their shared history behind them, there might have been the potential for friendship.

When they had been younger Harry had always thought that Draco resembled his father in miniature. But now, looking at him, Harry saw Narcissa, who had lied and saved Harry’s life in order to get to her son.

"Then you’ll do better," Harry said. "I think you’ll be fine."

He held Draco’s gaze for a moment, and something in the other man’s posture seemed to relax by the smallest fraction.

"Thanks, Potter," he said and held out his hand.

"Good luck, Malfoy," Harry replied, and this time he took it.


	5. Anniversary

_Prompt: Luna forgets their first anniversary because she counted another non-date as the start of their relationship._

***

Relationships were not something that Harry had a lot of experience with, at least not long term. Even so, he wasn’t too nervous as his first anniversary with Luna approached. Although he was unsure what they were supposed to do to celebrate, Luna always let him know if there was something she particularly wanted to do or somewhere she particularly wanted to go when they went out. He didn’t expect their anniversary celebrations to be any different.

But the days started creeping by and she didn’t mention it, and that did start to make Harry nervous. When there was only a week to go he started wondering if she expected him to surprise her. He asked Hermione for advice, but she seemed to think he was making a mountain out of a molehill and just said, “Harry, I’m sure Luna will love whatever you come up with as long as you’ve put thought into it. She won’t mind what it is as long as you’re together.”

This, Harry thought, was spectacularly unhelpful, but when he mentioned that Hermione gave him a sour look and told him in that case to just ask Ron. But if anything Ron was even more unconcerned.

"Just take her out to dinner, mate," he shrugged. When Harry scowled at him he added quickly, "I mean a nice romantic dinner, obviously." 

Just dinner seemed too mundane, too boring … but as he thought about it Harry consider that perhaps he could make it more special.

He made sure to get home early on the day, before Luna, so he could set up. With a flick of his wand he sent the furniture flying back to leave the floor of the living room open. He then laid out a large, dark-blue picnic rug embroidered with gold stairs - he’d borrowed it from Luna’s flat during the week and hidden it in the spare room - and set out several cushions to make it a little more comfortable.

After he had apologised profusely Hermione had gone shopping with him the other day and helped him pick out some length of silvery, gossamer-like material that he now used magic to drape around the room; the effect was to make his living room seem like a tent. He finished off by fixing fairy lights to the walls, just below the ceiling, and setting some candles levitating around the room like the ones that used to decorate the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Looking around, he had to say he thought it all looked really good, as if he had stepped into some other world. But there was something missing …

_…oh, right! Food._

When Luna came home he had a picnic laid out on the rug in front of them. Two filled champagne flutes were stood next to plates of fettuccine and grilled chicken (the food they had had on their first date), a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries in the middle. 

"Hey, you," Harry smiled, wondering how she managed to look so beautiful after a long day of work, with her hair pulled into a messy bun and in her most casual jumper and patched jeans.

She looked around the room in amazement, her lips curling into a wide smile. The candlelight was reflected in her eyes, making them seem to glow as she turned to him.

"This is beautiful, Harry. Did you do all this for me?"

"Who else would I do it for?" 

"I love it." Coming up to him, she reached up on her tip-toes to brush her lips against his. 

He smiled against her mouth. “I’m glad. I wanted to do something special.”

"This is certainly special," Luna agreed, gazing around again while Harry wrapped his arms around her. "But, may I ask, what’s the occasion?"

It was like a bucket of iced water had been poured over him.

"Wh-what?"

"I just wondered why you went to so much trouble."

His tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth, his throat dry as he explained nervously, “Because it’s our anniversary?”

Luna turned her head up to look at him, bemused. “No, it isn’t.”

_Oh, Merlin._ How had he managed to get the date wrong?

"It’s not?"

"No."

"Then when is?" he asked, trying desperately to remember when they had gone on their first date, and made their relationship - which had already grown past friendship - official. He was sure it was a year ago today. 

Turning around in his arms so she was facing him, Luna wound her own arms around his neck and smiled gently at him. At the very least she wasn’t angry about it, although to be fair Luna never really seemed to be angry about anything. 

"When we went to the park that night, and sat on the benches. Do you remember?"

He did remember. They had been having drinks with Ron and Hermione and their other friends from school in the centre of London, but when everyone started pairing off into couples they had slipped away. They had ended up walking around the city for a while until they came to one of the parks. Luna had found a bench with a plaque dedicating it to someone long dead, and they had sat there and talked until the sun crept over the trees and bathed them in the first light of dawn.

It had also been two weeks before they had gone out for the first time.

"Yeah," he said, confused, "But, Luna, nothing happened that night."

"Maybe not. But it was still the night that everything changed." 

He thought about that for a moment. It was that night - or rather, that morning - when he walked Luna back to her door, that he looked at her and realised he wished they had been one of the couples pairing off. That he felt happy whenever he saw not because she was his friend but because she was more than that. The way they were with each other was no different, but the world had tilted on its axis that day as Harry had finally realised how he felt. 

And apparently Luna had too.

"In that case," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "I’m really sorry I forgot our anniversary."


	6. Cooking With(out) Magic

_Prompt: They make dinner together, Muggle style, and it goes slightly awry. They end up with good food and a bit of a mess._

When Luna suggested cooking dinner without magic, Harry’s first instinct was to say no. In the years since he had left Hogwarts, cooking had become one of his least favourite things to do; although Mrs Weasley had done her best to teach him some useful spells, he had never really got the knack of them. He did his utmost to keep things as simple as possible in the kitchen, just to save on stress.

He had even less idea how to cook without the few spells he did know. The Dursleys had stopped making him look after their bacon, eggs or whatever else Aunt Petunia had been preparing after he went to Hogwarts, convinced he would jinx their food and make them all ill, so he had never actually had to learn to cook as a muggle. 

But when Luna looked up at him, her eyes bright with excitement, Harry couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her. 

In a way, it was actually the Dursleys’ fault. Luna was fascinated by the electric food mixer they had sent as a wedding present (this sounded much more generous that it was; Harry had recognised it as the food mixer they had had all the while he was growing up. He assumed they had bought themselves a new one, his wedding providing a convenient excuse to get rid of the old one). At first she just wanted to try out the mixer, but this soon evolved into her idea of making an entire meal without magic.

At least she didn’t want to try anything too complicated, Harry considered. She had bought a muggle cookbook during the week and had spent the evenings flipping through it for ideas, bookmarking her favourite recipes and reading them out to Harry. 

"I think this red lentil soup one will be good for a first try," she had finally settled on, "Yes. Let’s do this one."

For a first try seemed like ominous words to Harry, but he agreed anyway.

They had set the recipe book out on the counter and kept referring back to it every few minutes. They didn’t need the mixer to start, cooking lentils, onions, potatoes and garlic in simmering vegetable stock. Stray peelings littered the worksurface and the floor by the time they had chopped everything up, and Harry nearly cut his own fingers off more than once.

Luna took to it much more easily, humming away merrily as she sliced up the onions. Harry finally gave up and just peeled the garlic and the potatoes while Luna did all the chopping.

"It’s a bit like making a potion," he commented, "Only with saucepan instead of a cauldron and less weird ingredients."

"It’s rather soothing," Luna nodded, cutting the last of the potatoes into chunks.

It was less soothing when the cooking onions made Harry’s eyes sting and water, and his vision started to blur so he could no longer see what he was doing.

"Poor thing," Luna said tenderly, lifting his glasses off and reaching up to kiss his eyelids. He would have enjoyed this more if he wasn’t still trying to stir the mixture as she did so.

Next they had to cook the spices in oil. The recipe only called for a few teaspoons of each, but somehow they ended up with brown and yellow powder streaked across the counter and their aprons. Still, they gave off a delicious, rich smell as they cooked. 

Finally was the part Luna had been waiting for. They combined the two mixtures, and then poured the combinations into the food processor to blend it to a smooth texture.

"Now how do I work this?" she asked.

"Hang on, let me just … right, okay, it’s plugged in," Harry said, after pushing the plug into the wall socket and flicking the switch on. "Now you just need to push that red button to turn it on, just make you have —"

Luna had already pushed the button. The processor whirred into life, and thick orange soup went flying everywhere. It splattered into the ceiling with a soggy, squelching noise and covered the walls in bright, slightly grainy patches. Suddenly all Harry could see was dark orange as his glasses were hit, and he could feel the mixture trickling down his sleeves and front, even his socks.

"— the lid on first," he finished.

Wiping away the worst of the mess on his glasses, he looked at Luna. She was as messy as he was, her hair streaked with orange and her clothes covered.

They met each other’s gaze silently for a moment, and then simultaneously burst out laughing.

"Oh dear," Luna giggled, "Well, that didn’t quite work, did it?"

"No, not really," Harry said, grinning.

A tiny portion of the soup remained at the bottom of the mixer. Scooping it out into a small bowl, Luna added the last ingredient - a small squirt of lemon juice - and stirred it in, then tried a teaspoonful.

"It tastes quite good though," she said, sounding pleased and holding out the spoon for Harry to try.

It did at that, with a rich, spicy flavour that made him want more, although Harry suspected it would have tasted nicer blended into smoothness and warmed up a bit more - as per the recipe. 

He nodded. “Very good.”

"I think we should cook without magic more often," Luna said, skimming some more soup off her apron with one finger and eating it.

"On one condition," Harry said, looking around at the kitchen.

"What’s that?"

"We wash up using magic."


	7. Pudding and Panacea

_Prompt: Can I get a Lunarry fic set round the end of OotP when Luna's stuff goes missing? Like, a continuation off that scene where Harry and Luna get dessert in the great hall together would be lovely. Thanks!_

***

Harry’s eyes followed Luna as she disappeared down the corridor towards the Great Hall, her blonde waves streaming out behind her, a faint, lingering pressure on his fingertips where her hand had held his.

He waited for a time, after she had vanished around the corner, for the grief and anger that had been colouring the world the last several days to drape back across him like a veil, but it didn’t; it was still there, a hollow, ragged ache radiating out from his middle, but it had been shifted somehow and it was no longer all he saw.

After a short glance back at the list Luna had pinned to the wall, he turned and started walking back down the corridor himself. When he came to the Great Hall he paused, hesitating, but took a breath to steel himself and carried on.

Heads turned when he entered and there were a few whispers, but he ignored them. He turned his gaze to the Ravenclaw table, searching for the familiar tangle of blonde hair …

… there. Luna was making her way to an empty space, smiling faintly to herself. A twinge of anger burned at the bottom of Harry’s stomach as he saw most of the Ravenclaws she passed ignore her; no one made space for her, or waved her over the way people did when Harry, Ron or Hermione came in for a meal. A few acknowledged her with a nod, but no one bothered to try and talk to her.

The anger was punctured by that feeling of pity he had felt earlier in the corridor, but Harry was strangely glad of it. It was something outside of himself, beyond his own pain. Several times over the last year, and especially over the last few days, he had wondered if he had lost the ability to care - about anything other than the struggle he faced, at least. He had felt so detached from the world since Cedric was killed last year and it had only become worse with Sirius’ death. But it seemed he did still care. And Harry couldn’t help but be glad of that. 

"Luna!" He walked quickly to catch up to her before she sat down and started eating. "Luna."

She turned, eyebrows raising fractionally in surprise. “Harry?”

"Why don’t you come and eat with us?" He indicated the Gryffindor table, where he could see Ron and Hermione sat with Neville, Ginny, Dean and Seamus. 

He knew some of the Ravenclaws were looking around at them, but he resisted the urge to look at them. Instead he continued, looking straight at Luna but injecting a faint warning edge to his voice, “When we’re finished we can go and see if any of your things have turned up.”

Now he let his eyes flick for the briefest second down the table. Of those paying attention many looked nonplussed, but on a few faces guilt was suddenly playing about their features. 

Luna didn’t seem to notice, although Harry was beginning to suspect she noticed a lot more than she let on. Smiling serenely, she nodded. ”Okay. That would be nice.”

No doubt followed by several curious gazes, he lead Luna across to the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione looked surprised but pleased to see him, though some mild confusion crossed their faces when they noticed Luna behind him.

"Luna’s going to eat with us," he gave by way of explanation.

They nodded and shuffled up to make space for both of them. Ginny called a hello to Luna and Neville waved cheerily, and Harry knew he had made the right decision.

Pudding had just appeared on the table, in form of strawberry cheesecake, meringue with fresh raspberries and blackberries and a three layer chocolate cake. Despite that, Ron still had two sausages and a roast potato still to eat on his plate.

Luna reached immediately to cut herself a slice of cheesecake. Harry hesitated for a few months - he still didn’t really feel like eating anything, the hollow sensation gnawing at his stomach and killing any appetite - but he could feel Hermione’s anxious gaze on him and so reached for a slice of chocolate cake just to ward off the inevitable urging to eat something. 

He couldn’t bring himself to eat more than a mouthful or two, however; although it tasted delicious, he was forcing it down, his whole body seeming to tense up and rebel at being made to eat. Instead he looked over at Luna, who was spooning up cheesecake with the same dreaminess with which she did everything.

"Good?" he asked her, unable to come up with anything beyond the single word.

"Mm, yes, very," she smiled. "Pudding’s always my favourite course. I sometimes find it difficult to choose, though."

"Well, here, you can try some of this if you want." Harry pushed his plate towards her.

As he did so, some movement across the hall caught his eye. A small group of Ravenclaws that had been nearby when he talked about finding Luna’s things had gotten up and were heading out of the hall with their heads down. One of them threw a glance towards him as they disappeared through the door.

Harry felt a grim kind of satisfaction. He had a feeling that a good number of Luna’s missing things would be back in her dormitory when she returned.

He turned back to see Luna finishing off a bite of his chocolate cake.

"This is lovely," she said, looking up at him. "Why aren’t you eating it?"

He shrugged, feeling a little defensive. He didn’t mind much though, as she had asked with simple curiosity rather than any kind of judgement.

"Just don’t feel like it," he muttered, keeping his voice low so that Luna could hear but Ron and Hermione, who were talking animatedly with Ginny and Neville, wouldn’t.

Luna eyed him speculatively, then set her fork down on the table and twisted a little in her seat to face him fully. “No … but then, why did you change your mind and come in?”

A frown flickered over Harry’s face. He didn’t really have an answer to that beyond the patronising, I felt bad for you, but there was a genuine compassion in Luna’s eyes that made him want to tell her the truth. From their conversation in the hall, he knew Luna probably had a better idea that anyone how he was feeling. 

"I don’t know," he said finally, shrugging. "I wanted … to try."

There was a pause, as Luna seemed to take this in and mull it over. After several moments, she pushed the plate of cake back towards him. “So try.”

He looked between her and the cake, his stomach once again knotting up in protest while another part of him acknowledged the truth of Luna’s words. What was the point of sitting in silence, picking at his food, when he had made the choice to join the Feast rather than returning to his room.

"You don’t have to be happy," Luna added in a whisper. "It’s okay not to be."

That, oddly enough, made him feel better. Everyone had accepted his grief and his anger as natural, had been kind over the last few days and didn’t try to stop him from being detached and less good-humoured. But he knew they were all waiting for him to feel better, hoping that he might start to move past it all. 

Hearing someone say it was okay to not be there yet, that he didn’t have to try and stop feeling the way he felt, made the all the bitterness and sorrow that were draped across his shoulders like a physical weight easier to bear.

Which it turn, eased his stomach and let him take a few more bites of his chocolate cake.

"It is good," he said, speaking quietly and a little flatly. He wasn’t quite enjoying it, but it wasn’t just a mealy mouthful of nothing any more. 

"Try this too," Luna said, pushing her half-finished cheesecake towards him even as she took another bite herself.

That was how they finished off their puddings, sharing them together in silent understanding. It was half-hearted on Harry’s part, but he thought that was better than nothing, a step on the road to being full-hearted.

At one point he caught Ron and Hermione watching them, clearly unsure what to make of it, but he ignored them. Harry didn’t know how to explain to himself let alone them how Luna had made him feel better. She just had. 

When they were done, they got up and headed towards the door. 

"I enjoyed that," Luna said, stretching her arms out behind her.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. He was surprised to find he meant it. Enjoy might not be the right word, exactly, but he had felt better tonight that he had since before that night at the Ministry. The ache inside him hadn’t gone away, but it had been dulled a little. 

As they came into the Entrance Hall and started for the stairs, Harry looked over at her.

"So, d’you want to go and see if your things have turned up?"

"Oh, I suspect they have." Luna met his eyes, and he was surprised to see amusement on her face. "No one wants to be on Harry Potter’s bad side any more." 

He was almost startled into stopping. He had thought his veiled warning had completely passed her by, but clearly not. Luna really did notice far more than she let on. 

She held his gaze a few moments more, her eyes twinkling, then carried on up the stairs, humming to herself.

Harry moved more slowly after her and as he did so a faint, hardly-there, but very real smile touched the corners of his mouth.


	8. A Fleeting Moment

_Prompt: Deathly Hallows AU where after escaping the Malfoy Manor, Harry finds time alone with Luna at the Shell cottage and kisses her to release all his pent up unresolved feelings for her._

***

He found her wandering at the far end of the beach, the shimmering, grey-blue water breaking into foam over her bare feet as she bent down to pick something up. The afternoon sunlight glinted on her hair, turning it the same golden colour as the empty sand that stretched out behind them.

It was eerie, in a way, looking down at the beach; if it wasn’t for the thin trail of smoke coming from Shell Cottage’s chimney and the high pitched, squawking calls of the seagulls gliding over them they could have been alone in the world. It was like a painting in its beauty, the sand receding into green tufts of grass, the sea, dappled with sunlight, stretching out to meet the horizon. It was almost possible to forget there was a war raging on in the rest of country.

Almost.

“Luna,” Harry called, walking over to join her.

She straightened up, turning something over in her hands, and looked over to him. Though the beach might seem untouched, Luna did not; purpling bruises were spread down the side of her face, and there were shadows in her eyes that hadn’t been there before Malfoy Manor. Harry wanted to wipe them away, as if they had never been, or maybe to give them back tenfold to the people who had inflicted them. Maybe both.

Yet she still smiled as he approached. “Hello, Harry.”

_She’s stronger than she looks,_ Harry reminded himself. _She can fight her own battles._

“What are you doing?” he asked, nodding at her hands. He had noticed she was missing from Shell Cottage, but when he asked where she was he had only gotten a vague reply about her taking a walk down the beach.

“Collecting shells.” She held out the object she was holding. It was a small, perfectly formed spiral, the shell a beautiful, shimmering mix of pinks and golds. “There aren’t really any flowers that grow out here, so I thought I would collect some of these and put them on Dobby’s grave instead. I thought he might like that.”

It took Harry a few moments to reply. The raw grief washed over him again like one of the waves lapping at his shoes, closing his throat and making words impossible to find.

Finally he managed a short, hoarse, “I think he would.”

Luna gazed at him in silent understanding and sympathy, then returned to scouting the beach for shells. Blinking back hot, scratchy tears, Harry started looking with her.

But, as he scanned the sand, it was Luna that kept drawing his gaze. He found himself paying more attention to the small crease that had appeared between her eyebrows as she examined shells and discarded them as not nice enough, and the way her tongue poked a little way out of her mouth in concentration, than he was to actually finding anything in the sand.

It was a kind gesture on her part, to spend time searching for an offering for a house elf she had only met briefly – although, to be fair, in that short time Dobby had saved all their lives in exchange for his own. Luna’s kindness never failed to impress Harry. She somehow had it in her to forgive the meanness and cruelty she had been subjected to by other students at Hogwarts, to openly declare her faith in him when most of the rest of the school thought he was mad, and to comfort him when he was grieving for his godfather.

It infuriated him to think someone so kind could ever be hurt. He had never thought Luna would get caught up in this.

He had long since accepted the possibility, perhaps the inevitability, of his own death. And while logically he knew that it was a war, that other people would die – as Mad-Eye Moody had – he had been thinking of them as adults, making their own choice to fight, aware of the consequences. But he had never even considered the possibility that Luna might get hurt.

“Is something wrong?”

He started, suddenly realising that he had gone from stealing short glances at her to outright staring. A warm flush spread over his cheeks and he coughed hurriedly to cover his embarrassment. “Um, n-no, sorry.”

And why couldn’t he just tell her?

There had been so many times he had come close, but he had never quite managed to get the words out. The closest he had come was last year when he had asked her to Slughorn’s party, but then he had lost his nerve at the last moments and quickly added the proviso “as friends”.

_Friends …_

... and she was a friend, one of his dearest friends. But she was more than that at the same time. When exactly he had realised that, he couldn’t say. It wasn’t like with Cho, when he had had a swooping sensation in his stomach the first time he had seen her like he had missed a step going downstairs. It had crept up on him with Luna, a slowly dawning realisation that the sight of her radish earrings or hearing her talking about nargles and wrackspurts made him feel happier, and somehow lighter. That she was never very far from his thoughts and he missed her when she wasn’t around.

Then, with everything that had happened at the end of the year, when he had made his decision to leave to hunt down the horcuxes he had been glad he never told her. What was the point, if he might die? It would only cause them both pain. And it might put her in more danger.

But he had only ever thought about himself getting hurt or dying, and Luna being left. He had never thought that she might get hurt.

If he died, and Luna lived on never know he had had felt, then he didn’t mind. Or not much. As long as she was alive. But if something was to happen to her and she never knew …

“Harry?” Suddenly she was in front of him, her large grey eyes watching him the faintest hint of concern. He had been so busy combing through he thoughts that he hadn’t noticed her coming up to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Y-yes, it’s just…” Tell her! “Er. Luna …”

“I know this must be upsetting,” Luna said as he trailed off, cursing himself. She looked down at the small bundle of shells she had collected, clacking together gently in her hands, “Ron told me that you were close to Dobby.”

“Yes … I was,” he said slowly, feeling grief choking him again.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve lost someone else.”

The words were almost a whisper, but it was that whisper that Harry thought might undo him. He struggled to keep his composure, closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath to try and calm the maelstrom of emotions flooding through him.

When he opened his eyes Luna was watching him again, her face so open and full of pain – pain for his suffering, because she cared about him.

“I -” he croaked out, and had to pause and start again. “It’s not that …”

“I know you probably don’t want to talk. But if you do —”

_Oh, sod it._

Taking her face in his hands, he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. He felt a gasp of surprise run through her, and heard the clattering of the shells falling to the sand as she dropped them. He kissed her deeply, desperately, knowing it might well be the last chance he ever had to kiss her, trying to put into every touch of his lips the feelings he had never managed to communicate in words. When he pulled back he kept cradling her chin in his hands, searching her face for some sign she understood.

“I – I’m sorry,” he stammered out, “But I know I might not get another chance. And I couldn’t find another way to tell you.”

She was staring at him, eyes wider than he had ever seen them. For an endless, paralysing moment, he thought he had made a huge mistake. Everything he had ever thought, ever read into the looks they had shared and the conversations they had was wrong, so wrong. He had never been more wrong, and she was going to push him away any second now and he had ruined everything. It was just long enough for his heart to go into overdrive, until he was sure it would go out.

Then her hands came up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jumper, and she smiled.

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t think you would ever get around to doing that.”

Relief made his knees wobble, as though they might collapse under him, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. His heart felt like it was ten times too large for his chest, his body stretched tight to contain it. For a moment he just let himself revel in it. He rested his forehead against Luna’s, breathing in the smell and feel of her. His arms slid down to encircle her waist, pulling her snug against him. It felt good to be so close to her. It felt right.

But it couldn’t last.

“I thought it would be better if I didn’t tell you,” he said, finally. “But I couldn’t leave without saying anything.”

Luna was silent for moment. Then, moving her head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, she said, “So this is you saying goodbye?”

“I … yes. It might be.”

“You don’t think you’ll come back.”

He couldn’t lie to her. And he wouldn’t ask her to wait. “I don’t know.”

There was a pause. Then, “I think you will.”

“What?” He looked down at her, as she moved to look up at him.

“You’re the Boy Who Lived. And I think you’ll live again.” Her eyes traced over his face, and she smiled. “Or at least I hope you will.”

No; those were the words to undo him. Instinctively he tightened him arms around her, and wished he could tell her that they would have more than this one moment. “So do I.”

She lifted one hand to brush his cheek.

“Well, we have today, don’t we?” she said, standing on her tip-toes to move her lips close to his again. “We can go back to pretending after it’s over.”

Harry nodded as her nose grazed the side of his. He smiled as her arms wound around his neck, and pressed several tiny, featherlight kisses along her cheek to her mouth.

“Yeah, Luna. We have today.”


	9. People Watching

_Prompt: Coffee Shop AU_

_***_

Luna was dancing as she prepped the espresso machine, humming quietly along with the indie guitar track that was playing on the radio.

“How are you so cheery this early in the morning?” Harry asked from where he sat slumped over a table he was supposed to be cleaning.

She glanced over her shoulder, setting her earrings – small enamel radishes – swinging. Despite the fact that it was barely eight thirty in the morning, she looked fresh and ready for the day ahead; her grey eyes were bright and her long blonde curls pinned into a neat-but-messy bun on top of her head with a hairpin that made it look like a large bumblebee was nesting her hair. Harry, who had rolled out of bed just over half an hour ago, hadn’t even run a comb through his own hair (not that you could tell when he did).

With a serene smile, she answered, “I’m looking forward to the day. Aren’t you?”

“I work in a coffee shop. Why would I look forward to that?”

“You don’t like working here?”

He gave an awkward shrug. He worked here out of necessity, because he needed the money, not because his ambition in life was to be a barista (did anyone ever want to be a barista? Even Luna herself was saving up money to go travelling). In truth, Luna’s company was the only thing he did enjoy about this job.

“You do?”

Luna nodded. “People are so fascinating! Don’t you like looking at them and guessing their stories?”

“Er, I can’t say I’ve ever done that.”

“Never?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I just get their orders.”

“But that’s all part of it!” Luna cried, coming forward to lean across the counter and meet his bemused gaze with her own earnest stare. “A coffee order tells you a lot about a person. What kind of person they are, what sort of day they’re having. It’s all there.”

Harry thought about this for a moment. Then, getting to his feet, he crossed the small shop and stood across the counter from her, resting his arms next to hers so they were just touching.

“Alright. I’ll play your game. Like what?”

“Hmm, well, like ….” She thought for a moment. “There’s that man, with the grey coat and the red scarf. He always has a hands-free earpiece on, and he usually orders black coffee to go.”

“Okay?”

“He likes his coffee simple, so I think he must like things neat and orderly – no complications. Plus it’s a quick order, he’s very busy. He doesn’t like waiting, and doesn’t stop to relax very often. I think he has an important business job,” Luna explained, resting her chin on one palm. “And sometimes he orders espresso instead of coffee, so he probably stays late at the office.”

Harry couldn’t help an admiring smile. He didn’t think he had ever noticed half so much about one of his customers – he took their order and their payment, and instantly forgot their faces as he started serving whoever was next. Nor would he have guessed that Luna, who seemed to drift around the shop in a daydream whenever he shared a shift with her, paid such close attention. Although now he thought about it, it was just so _her_ ; picking out tiny details, piecing them together like a puzzle and making the day more interesting for herself.

He tried to conjure up an image of someone he served regularly so he could reciprocate, but he just couldn’t picture any faces let alone match them to orders. There were so many in a day, he didn’t see how it was possible to remember anyone specifically.

No, wait – “Okay, there’s one woman … I think she usually orders a latte, yeah, a cinnamon latte, and she sits in.”

Luna gave him an encouraging smile. “And what does that tell you?”

“I, er … she sits in, so she’s got some time. But it’s early in the morning, so maybe she’s getting off a night-shift? And, er, it’s cinnamon so … maybe a comfort thing? Like her job’s difficult. So she like so sit and have a warm drink and rest her feet in the mornings.”

“That’s good!”

He grinned, pleased to have her approval. He would have to try her game out, attempt to make his day more enjoyable. At the least he could have a bit of fun exchanging the stories he invented with Luna.

“Alright,” he said. “What would my order say about me?”

“That depends. What would you order?”

He thought. “Hot chocolate, to go. With shaved chocolate, but no marshmallows.”

Luna eyed him for a moment. “You like comfort, so hot chocolate. But to go, so you like to keep busy instead of sitting around. You like having a purpose, but you’re not uptight.  
No marshmallows … you could stand to relax more. Learn to enjoy yourself and find something to look forward to.”

“Something to look forward to? You have any suggestions?”

She smiled, and then to Harry’s surprise rose up on her tip-toes to close the small gap that remained between them over the counter and press her lips to his in a soft, inviting kiss. She tasted of nutmeg and raspberries, and when she pulled back there seemed to be laughter in her eyes.

“I have a few.”


	10. A Familiar Touch

_Prompt: Amnesia AU_

***

They took turns sitting with him, his friends - or, at least, the people who told him they were his friends. It was difficult to think of them of such when he had no memory of who they were and had to keep reminding himself of their names.

Privately he couldn’t help wishing they had let him go home on his own when he was released from St Mungo’s, but they hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. It was kind of the Weasleys to insist he stay with him, but even though they treated him like family to him they were all still strangers.

He was a stranger to himself.

Ron and Hermione told him stories - how he had met Ron on the train to school, how they had hated Hermione until they rescued her from a troll. Secretly making polyjuice potion, sneaking out of school under an invisibility cloak … he wondered if he really was as reckless and foolhardy as their stories often sounded. He didn’t _feel_ reckless, but he didn’t even feel connected to his own name so how could he know for sure?

They told him about Voldemort. About his scar, and the horcruxes. About the final battle. He had won, but it had cost him his memories.

Sometimes other people would come and talk to him. Hagrid, who told him all about baby Norbert and their first trip to Diagon Alley. Neville talked about the DA and how much he - Harry, he needed to keep calling himself by his name, then maybe it would start to actually feel like his - had helped him. Ginny told him Quidditch anecdotes.

The whole time he could see them watching him, anxious hope behind their eyes, as if they told him enough about himself it would be like a dam breaking and it would all come flooding back. He didn’t have the heart to tell them it was like listening to a book being read aloud, that they were stories from another person’s life.

He thought it was probably Hermione’s turn to sit with him today, but when the fireplace flared brilliant, emerald green with Floo powder someone he had never seen before stepped out of it.

She had waist-length blonde hair pulled back in a plait, and big grey eyes that travelled around the room before landing on him. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, from which dangled a pair of what looked like radishes.

The others had mentioned her, he thought. “Eccentric” was the word that had been used. What had they said her name was?

"Hello," she said, coming over to the window where he was sat.

"Hello," he offered, unable to recall her name.

"I’d call you Harry," she continued, watching him thoughtfully. "But I imagine you don’t feel much like Harry right now."

He was surprised into silence. There was nothing of the expectancy he saw in the others’ faces in her expression, no carefully controlled anticipation that any moment he would wake up and be Harry Potter again. Just gentle understanding.

He shook his head. “No, no I don’t.”

"Maybe we can come up with another name for you, then. I’m Luna, by the way."

Luna, that was it. It suited her.

"It’s nice to meet you, Luna. Again, I suppose. We’re friends?"

"We were. I hope we will be again."

He felt something inside him relaxing, that he hadn’t realised had been tense since he first woke up in the hospital. Everyone else still treated him like he was the same person, like he just needed reminding of that. But he had no idea if he was the same person, or ever would be again. It was a relief to have someone else acknowledge that, like sharing a burden.

Luna had fallen silent, gazing out of the window at the Weasley’s back garden. He waited for her to say something, to start telling him more stories, of how they met, how they used to know each other. He waited to feel the tension rising again.

But when she turned, she said, “Did you know there’s a pond a short walk from here?”

"Uh, no. I didn’t," he said.

"It’s quite nice. My mum used to take me for picnics there when I was little. It’s home to a shoal of Gulping Plimpies."

"Gulping Plimpies?"

Luna nodded and continued in a musing voice, “Yes. I used to go fishing for them, but I haven’t for a while. It’s a nice day, though, I thought perhaps I might go now.”  
He frowned. “Now? As in right now?”

"Yes. Do you want to come?"

He stared at her. This wasn’t at all what he had come to expect from his visitors. Although he couldn’t deny the idea of a day spent outside, doing something, instead of hearing about who he was supposed to be, was very appealing.

He wondered if that was why she had suggested it.

Luna didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. “We could go blackberry picking afterwards. It’s the right season.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

"Alright. Let’s go then."

She moved towards the door, then turned back and held out a hand. Getting up, he walked over to her and took it. A jolt of recognition seemed to run through him as they touched; he still didn’t remember her or anything about himself, but the warm weight of her hand in his was familiar, an echo of something he used to know but couldn’t place.  
He looked up to see that she was smiling.

"I know you," he said.

"Yes," Luna agreed, "You do."


	11. Reunion

_Prompt: School Reunion AU_

***

One of the perils of living and working at Hogwarts was getting roped in helping out with any events the castle was hosting, whether they be feasts, balls, memorial day services, or class reunions. Which was why Harry, instead of marking the many Defence Against the Dark Arts essays he had set for his students before the holidays, found himself helping Professor Flitwick re-affix several strings of ribbon to the walls of the Great Hall after someone knocked them down.

"This is why permanent sticking charms were invented of course," Flitwick whispered over the sounds of The Wyrd Sisters as they worked, "But we can’t have the Great Hall permanently covered in ribbons, can we?"

Luckily the Great Hall was atmospherically dark, the only light coming from a few strategically placed clusters of floating candles and the clear, starry ceiling overhead, so they were able to move above without disrupting the reunion too much.

Although, to be fair, even if had been as bright as day Harry thought the guests were too busy catching up on the last ten years to be much distracted by the teachers running about fixing the decorations.

It was a little strange to realise, as he looked around, just how much of those guests he didn’t recognise. They had only been a year below him in school and they couldn’t have changed that much; surely he should know more than a handful of faces? 

He knew Ginny, of course. The Weasleys were practically family, so he saw her whenever she was home from her latest tour with the Harpies. And he recognised a couple of her friends, whom she’d always been with at Hogwarts and occasionally visited The Burrow. Zacharias Smith and a select few he knew from the DA, but they couldn’t have added up to more than ten of the seventy odd people here. Admittedly a good number of those were plus-ones, but still.

As he looked around, his eyes fell on one figure who was familiar, stood alone by the table of refreshments. It had been years since he had last seen her, but even so there was so mistaking the blonde hair and serene smile of Luna Lovegood.

She looked less obviously dotty than she had as a teenager. Her hair was twisted up into a neat knot, and she was wearing dress robes of a pale turquoise colour that complemented the pink tones of her skin. There was no necklace of butterbeer corks, but from her ears dangled little silver crescent moons and her wand, Harry saw as she turned her hair, was tucked through her hair like a hairpin.

"There, that should do it." Flitwick’s voice brought him back to the task at hand. "That was the last lot, I think. Thank you, Harry. You can go if you want, or say hello to old friends. There must be some here?"

"Er, yeah, actually. I think I’ll do that."

Tucking his wand away, Harry turned and headed over towards Luna. The last time he had seen her had been Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and that had been nearly five years ago. After that she had been so busy travelling the world it had been difficult to keep in touch. He hadn’t realised until he saw her just how much he had missed her.

"Hello, you," he called as he neared the table.

She turned, a mildly surprised look on her face which creased into her a smile as she recognised. “Hello, Harry. I wondered if I’d see you, I heard you were working here.”

"Well, you almost didn’t. I wasn’t planning on coming down, but some decorations needed fixing. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?"

"I wasn’t sure I was," Luna said, "But I decided I didn’t want to regret missing it."

Harry smiled. “I’m glad. It’s good to see you. You look really nice, by the way.”

She looked more than nice, if he was honest, but it felt a little strange to be thinking that about Luna and he wasn’t sure how she would feel if he told her she was beautiful.

"Thank you. Ginny picked the dress robes out for me."

"So why are you over here by yourself and not with everyone else?" He gestured at the rest of her class, who all seemed to be on the dance floor. "Didn’t you want to dance?"

Luna seemed to think about that for a moment. “I don’t know. No one asked me, so I hadn’t considered it.”

From anyone else that might have been a self-pitying, sad statement. From Luna it was just a fact. It was both heartening - after all these years, she was still Luna - and at the same time sent a stab of annoyance through Harry. He had never understood why Luna was an outcast at school. Yes, she was eccentric and believed some odd things, but she was also one of the kindest and most caring people Harry had ever met. He had always felt more comfortable around her than almost anyone.

He was quiet for a moment, then held out a hand. “Luna, would you like to dance with me?”

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, that would very nice, Harry.”

She took his hand and he led her out on to the dance floor, nodding hello to the few people he knew. The song playing was a slower one, so Harry pulled Luna close and set her hand on his shoulder before placing his own hands on her back. Luna seemed to content to let him lead, although he wasn’t sure the swaying motion he was just about managing really counted as dancing.

It occurred to him, as they settled into the rhythm of the music, that he had never been this close to Luna before. He was down at her, and if she leaned in just a little closer she could probably have tucked her head comfortably under his chin. He could smell her perfume - flowery and sweet, and something like vanilla - and realised, with a little surprise, that he felt somewhat nervous. The warm pressure of her hands behind his neck didn’t help.

"So what have you been up to recently?" he asked her, in an attempt to distract himself. "The last I heard, you were in Peru."

"I was, and then Bolivia for a while I was tracking a herd of Slashkilters. I didn’t find them, but I did get enough material to write about."

Harry had no idea what Slashkilters were and decided it was best not to ask. “That’s good. How long are you home for?”

Luna smiled. “Actually, I was thinking I’d stay. I’ve missed home, and my friends.”

"We’ve missed you, too." He twirled her around and she laughed brightly.

"So if I asked if you were free for lunch next week …?”

"I’d say yes."

Harry grinned, and was incredibly grateful to whomever had knocked down the decorations.


	12. Masquerade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Masquerade Ball AU

Harry had decided he did not like masquerades.

The ballroom was too hot, so crowded with people that it would have been difficult to move around even if half his vision hadn’t been cut off by the narrow slits that served for eye-holes in his mask. Everyone was dressed in splashes of vibrant colour like jewel-bright birds, dresses and suits sparkling in the candlelight, so that it was impossible to look in any one direction for too long without feeling the start of a headache. Those that weren’t dancing clumped together in groups along the side of the room, though how anyone knew who they were talking to was a mystery to Harry. Maybe they didn’t, and they just didn’t mind conversing with perfect strangers.

Perhaps he would have felt more sociable if he was less uncomfortable, but the starched and stiffly ironed suit Hermione had insisted on just felt strange. Harry kept fidgeting, pulling at his sleeves and tie, and at the mask, cumbersome and irritating. Who in their right mind ever thought a mask was fit for anything except as a torture device? It kept sliding down his nose, or the silk tie holding it in place tangled painfully in his hair. At least he had contact for the evening, so he didn’t have to wear his glasses over it, he supposed. That would have been a nightmare.

It was a nice mask, lacquered a dark, crimson red at the top and cream below, with gold detailing around the edges and the eyes. And one very good thing about it was that it reached all the way to his hairline, completely covering his scar. Without that or his glasses, it seemed he was unrecognisable. For once he was able to move – or stand still in a corner, in this case – in complete anonymity. No one asking to shake his hand, or for an autograph or a picture or anything. It was a pleasant relief, and the only thing Harry was enjoying about the night.

Well, perhaps that was a little unfair. The beginning of the night had been enjoyable. He had come with Hermione and the Weasleys and before he lost them in the crowds they had had some fun. He had danced with Hermione and Ginny, and when he had only been wearing them a short time the suit and the mask hadn’t seemed so terrible. But that had been hours ago and they had since become relentlessly itchy and uncomfortable, and the one person Harry had been hoping to see apparently wasn’t going to turn up. So he was content to stand off to the side, waiting until his friends were ready to leave.

He sighed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, when he felt eyes on him from a distance. It was an odd sensation, a sort of prickling on his skin that told him he was being watched. Shifting his mask a little to get as clear a view as he could, he looked over the crowd for anyone looking in his direction. It was difficult to make out any individuals in the sea of people milling about through the room, but there, in the corner, Harry found a pair of eyes locked with his and momentarily forgot how to breathe.

She was stood next to one of the candelabras, the dancing light of the candle flames making her long, wavy hair gleam golden. She was wearing a silvery-white gown, the fitted bodice embroidered with pearl beading that was also detailing the hem of the skirt. Her mask was a matching silver, and the top left part of it curled up over her forehead into the shape of a crescent moon.

Luna.

When she saw he was looking at her, mouth curled into a tiny smile and she gave a faint jerk of her head. _Follow me_.

He started across the hall towards her, pushing his way through the groups of people laughing and talking with muttered apologies. As he got close a young couple in matching green outfits burst through the crowd in front of him, obscuring his vision. He stumbled backwards a step, and had to wait for them to move out of the way before he could go any further. Only when they had, Luna had disappeared from her corner.

Frowning, Harry stepped to where she had been only moments ago and turned to look for her. She couldn’t have gotten very far, not in this crowd and not in the dress she had been wearing. So where …?

A flash of silver by the doorway caught his eye, and he saw Luna had stopped in the entrance to the gardens. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, the smile still hovering on her lips. He belatedly realised she had moved deliberately, wanting him to follow her.

Very well, then, follow her he would.

She had moved away again by the time he got to the garden doors. The cold night air hit him in a refreshing burst, cooling his flushed, over-hot skin. He paused for a minute, relishing it as he searched again for Luna, but didn’t want to linger too long; more than one couple had sought privacy in the alcoves out here, despite the fact that they could be seen as soon as one took a single step out the doors.

There was Luna, waving at him before disappearing amongst the trees that lined the garden path. Grinning, Harry started after her. By the time he got to where he had seen her, the strains of music and laughter from the ball had all but faded, leaving only the rustling of the leaves and the chirping of a few birds not yet gone to sleep.

A laugh to his left alerted him to Luna’s presence, and he darted between the trees to find her waiting for him in a small gazebo he hadn’t even realised was there.

“You’re late,” he told her, closing the short distance left between them.

“Am I? I hadn’t realised.”

She had taken off her mask, so her hair now fell freely around her face. Harry stepped close to her and reached up to twine one of her curls around his fingers.

“So why,” he asked, “are we out here and not back there?”

Luna smiled. Rising up on tip-toe, she pushed Harry’s own mask back off his face so she could press her mouth to his. Harry dropped his hand from her hair and moved it instead to her waist, pulling her against him. His lips worked gently against hers and when they broke apart they were both breathless and slightly flushed. Luna curled her fingers into the fabric of his jack, her eyes bright.

“I thought it would be more fun if we spent some time alone,” she said, nose grazing his chin. “Do you mind?”

Harry laughed. “No, Luna. I don’t mind at all.”


	13. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Nanny/Single Parent AU

With tiredness befuddling his mind, for the briefest moment Harry thought he might have gone deaf. Then his thoughts focused and he realised it was just that his daughter had finally stopped crying.

He opened his eyes blearily, surprised to find how close he had been to dozing off; he really was tired if he was about to fall asleep leaning against a wall. Shaking his head to try and wake himself up, he looked across the nursery to where two-year-old Lily was being gently rocked by her nanny.

He had been dubious about hiring a nanny, uncomfortable about leaving his child with someone he didn’t know. But after several months of failing miserably to balance fatherhood with his work as an Auror - when he wasn’t in his boss’s office explaining why his reports hadn’t been filed yet he was missing Lily’s first steps or failing to notice that she’d manged to clamber out of her playpen - he was forced to admit that he needed help.

Luna had been a godsend. He had picked her out of the various people who had applied because there was something about her smile and her serene demeanour that made him feel like Lily would be safe with her. And she was certainly good with her; within a few minutes of being introduced they were having a tea-party and Luna was being introduced to all of Lily’s favourite toys. She took it very seriously, making conversation with Mr Wiggles the teddy bear and Fantasia the unicorn, and Harry couldn’t help laughing as his watched them and felt completely sure he’d picked the right person. 

Admittedly, Luna could be odd at times. There was the time Harry came home from work to find they had completely rearranged the furniture to make the energies in the house more harmonious. Or when they had nargle-proofed everything, mostly by hanging strange charms in random places. But if anything her eccentricities had brought warmth and laughter into their home, and Lily adored her.

Like tonight, when Lily had been crying for hours, unable to get to sleep first because she was teething and the pain was keeping her awake and then because she was overwrought and exhausted. Harry had paced up and down the house with her all night, rubbing her back in small circles trying to soothe her and telling her it was all going to be okay. But in between sobs, Lily had just kept saying, “’una. Want ‘una.”

Finally, near tears with tiredness himself, Harry had given in and called Luna. She had been over within half an hour, bless her, and immediately taken Lily into her arms. Harry wasn’t sure exactly how long she rocked her for, singing some Gaelic lullaby in her ear, but it wasn’t very long until Lily’s sobs eased into hiccups before finally subsiding altogether.

Now she was completely quiet, and it looked like she might finally have drifted off to sleep. Her head was resting on Luna’s chest, her eyes closed, looking peaceful despite her pink-splotched nose and cheeks and the few tears still clinging to her eyelashes. Luna was gazing fondly down at her, stroking her hair with one hand.

Watching them together, Harry felt a warmth spread through his body.

“There we go,” Luna murmured quietly. Slowly, she moved back over to Lily’s cot and lowered her into it. Lily shifted a little in her sleep, but didn’t wake as Luna tucked her blankets tightly around her.

She glanced over at Harry, and together the two of them edged out of the nursery. Harry waited until they were a good way down the corridor before speaking.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered, afraid to speak at a normal volume in case it woke Lily again. “I’m so sorry to have to call you so late.”

It was probably the fiftieth time he’d apologised. Luna shook her head.

“I told you, I don’t mind. You can always call.” 

He was quiet for a moment, wondering if she realised the implications of that statement … and if she intended them.

“Well, I really appreciate it. You’re so good with her.”

Luna smiled. “She’s a wonderful child. I love spending time with her.”

“She is. And she … we both love having you around, too,” he said slowly, a nervous fluttering in her stomach.

Faint pink spots appeared on her cheeks and Luna glanced at her feet, clearly pleased. They had reached the top of the stairs, and they started walking down Harry turned to her.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

He said the words without much thought, and then immediately realised how blunt they were, how much like a proposition they sounded. Luna’s eyes had widened in surprise, and he could feel a hot, embarrassed flush spreading over his face.

“I mean, um, since it’s so late and … you don’t want to be going home alone…” He tried to clarify, but felt like he was digging himself a hole. “That is, there’s a spare bedroom, you know, it’s not like …”

She was smiling now, lips curled with amusement.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m … trying to …” _Seduce you? Take advantage of you?_

The trouble was, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t attracted to her. When they were in the house together his eyes were drawn to her like magnets, and when she looked towards he could feel his heartrate speeding up. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time, since before he became a father, and even found himself leaving work slightly early so he could spend more time with her and Lily.

But she was his daughter’s nanny, and it was hideously inappropriate.

“Trying to …”

Except if it was so inappropriate, why did he sometimes think he was flirting with her and that she was flirting back? And why was she stepping closer to him now, so that there was barely an inch between them?

“Trying to do this?” she said, standing up on her tip-toes and pressing her lips to his.

Harry hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her snug against him so he could feel the lines of her body pressed against his. He let one hand tangle in the ends of her long blonde girls and the other slip under her tshirt so he could run his fingers over the warm skin of her back.

Her arms wound around his neck, pulling his head down to deepen their kiss; their mouths were open now, tongues gently exploring, lips teasing and pulling at each other. It was amazing how much more awake Harry suddenly felt, heat flooding through him.

He pulled away briefly to murmur hoarsely, “This … this seems like it might be a bad idea …”

The fact he was still holding her tightly to him contradicted his words, but he felt obligated to say them anyway.

“Mmm. Just because it seems it, doesn’t mean it is,” Luna said, looking up at him with bright eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

Harry thought about that for a moment.

“So. Um. Does that mean you want to stay the night?”


	14. Expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Luna and Harry discover she's expecting their first child

If Harry could have picked a moment for his wife to tell him she was pregnant for the first time, it definitely wouldn’t have been while he was chopping vegetables for dinner.

“Wha - _shit_!” He hissed in pain as, distracted, he missed the onions and the knife instead sliced across his finger. He snatched it up to stop the blood already welling up over the skin from getting on the food, and grabbed a cloth from the windowsill to press over the cut while he turned to Luna, who was still calmly stirring the sauce. “You’re _what_?”

Luna didn’t answer, turning the heat down to a simmer, then coming over to Harry. Gently, she took the cloth from him and wiped the blood clean, then slid her wand out from behind her ear and with a flick and word sealed the cut as if it had never been.

“Careful,” she said, pressing a kiss to his finger. “And yes. I took a test. I’m pregnant.”

Harry stared at her for moment, trying to wrap his mind around what she was saying.

“So, the nausea, and the tiredness …?”

“Yes. They’re very common symptoms. They’re what made me suspect, actually.”

She had been feeling sick for a few days, had been tired and hadn’t had the energy to do much. Harry had just assumed it was a stomach bug that would pass soon. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that she could be …

They had been together for five years now, married for nearly two. They had talked about the future and both of them wanted a family, but when they had talked it had always been _one day_. They had never thought about specifics, but in Harry’s mind it had been a deliberate choice they would make when they were ready, not something that would just happen.

But when he looked down at Luna, who had a small, anxious crease in her brow even as she smiled up at him, he couldn’t help picturing a child with his dark hair and her grey eyes. _Their_ child. 

He lifted a hand to brush a loose curl back behind her ear. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Seeing the grin spreading over his face, Luna’s own smile widened. Her shoulders slumped, and Harry realised she must have been more worried about his reaction than she wanted to show.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she echoed, nodding.

As if a dam burst with those words they were in each other’s arms, laughing and kissing each other, and Harry had lifted Luna up and was spinning her around in excitement.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to be a parent. But he certainly couldn’t imagine anything better than extending their little family to include a child that was part him and part Luna.

Although when the sauce started burning, he was reminded that he probably wouldn’t have chosen to find out while they were making dinner.


	15. Sleepwalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Walking back to the common room after another painful detention with Umbridge, Harry discovers Luna sleepwalking through the halls

Harry flexed his hand as he made his way through the castle, as if the repetitive motion might ease some of the pain. The scars forming the words _I must not tell lies_ had been cut open once again, and though the bleeding had stopped it still burned and throbbed. He knew from experience that it would take a few days to ease completely - assuming, that was, that he didn’t get another detention from Umbridge in that time. And it was more than likely he would, given how much difficulty he had controlling his temper in her class.

That anger lay coiled in his stomach, dormant now but ready to rise up at the merest provocation. When it did it left him feeling exhausted and drained, but it was still there. He couldn’t really remember what it was like not to feel angry any more, a thought that left him even more tired.

His detentions only fanned the flames, and he had taken to wandering around for a while afterwards to calm down before he went back to the common room. If he didn’t, he often just ended up snapping at Ron and Hermione and he didn’t want to keep fighting with his best friends on top of everything else.

There was no chance of that tonight, at least; no doubt they were already asleep. This latest detention had ended some hours ago and he had spent the time since pacing round the grounds under his invisibility cloak, letting the cool night air soothe away some of the fresh rage. The sky had turned from from a rich blue to inky black, stars appearing like diamond pinpricks from behind the clouds and a bright half-moon rising above the trees, before he was ready to come back inside.

Harry wasn’t sure exactly what time it was, but he would bet it was past midnight. The castle was still and quiet, like the whole building was holding its breath and he was only the person awake …

… or not, he reconsidered, as the sound of footsteps around the corner broke into his thoughts.

He paused at the foot of the stairs up to the third floor, and then ducked into an doorway. No doubt it was Filch, prowling the corridors to see if he could catch any students up after lights out. He wouldn’t see Harry under the cloak, of course, but it wouldn’t be hard to explain away if the caretaker walked into an invisible but solid body standing by the stairs.

But it wasn’t the grizzled, sour-faced caretaker that walked out of the hallway on to the landing. It was Luna Lovegood.

She moved slowly, like she was drifting through water, a strangely blank look on her face. Nor was she dressed for sneaking around at night, in light purple pyjamas and bare feet. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a plait but mussed out of place, strands twisting loosely around her ears and jaw.

“Luna?” Harry called out without thinking. She didn’t reply, but came to a stop in the middle of the landing. “Luna, what are you doing?”

She didn’t say anything.

Frowning, Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak and moved closer. She didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t even seem to see him standing next to her.

“Luna?” 

Her head moved towards him, but she retained that blank expression, eyes open but unseeing as if she was -

_Oh, no._

Sleepwalking. She was sleepwalking.

Running an anxious hand through his hair, Harry racked his brains for anything he knew about sleepwalking. He was fairly certain you weren’t supposed to wake the person sleepwalking, just try to get them back to bed safely.

Only Luna’s bed was in Ravenclaw Tower, and even if he figured out where the entrance to the Ravenclaw Common Room was hidden Harry had no idea what the password was.

So what was he supposed to do?

“Luna.” Her head shifted in his direction again. Maybe she was asleep, but she was listening to him. He took a small step closer to her and said softly, “Luna, I need you to come with me, okay?”

She didn’t say anything. Slowly, hesitantly, Harry reached out and took her elbow. He almost went for her hand, but was afraid the skin-on-skin contact might wake her. So instead he lightly slid his fingers her behind her arm and urged her towards the stairs.

“Come this way.”

She followed obediently, as if it what she had always intended. Harry walked slowly beside her for a few steps, wondering what the risk was that they might get caught. He wasn’t sure he had ever yet managed a night-time jaunt without almost running into Filch, Mrs Norris or Peeves - or even all three - and somehow Harry didn’t think they would be very understanding about Luna sleepwalking through the castle.

Hoping he wouldn’t wake her, Harry stepped close to Luna and then gently held out his cloak and draped it over both of them. She shifted slightly at the extra weight but to Harry’s relief didn’t stir, and he was able to let out a breath he hadn’t really realised he was holding.

He steered her gently up the stairs, thinking how bizarre the entire situation was. He didn’t think he had ever been this physically close to Luna before; he could smell the shampoo she used, some bright, fruity fragrance that he wouldn’t have guessed she would use but somehow was a perfect fit. He could feel the warmth of her small, slim frame next to his, and see her chest rise and fall with each deep, slow breath.

“Almost there. This way,” he whispered into her ear as they came up to the seventh floor, and guided her along the corridor towards the Fat Lady’s portrait. 

The Fat Lady wasn’t pleased to be woken up so late, and even less so when Harry hissed at her to be quiet in case she disturbed Luna.

“Oh, so it’s important that she get to sleep but not me?” she grumbled, but in a low voice and swung open without protest when Harry gave her the password.

“Luna - climb up through the portrait hole.”

She did, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he clambered up after her. He would have to explain to Luna - and the rest of the Gryffindors - why she was in the Gryffindor Common Room in the morning, but it was certainly preferable to getting caught by Filch.

The common room was empty, as he had suspected it would be. A part of him wished Hermione was still awake - if anyone would know about sleepwalking it would be her - but another part was glad that he would be able to look after Luna without anyone getting in the way.

“Okay. Luna, come and lie down on the couch.”

She followed up over to one of the big red sofas in front of the fireplace, and happily climbed on to it as he had told her. Harry pulled down one of the cushions and made her sure her head was pillowed comfortably, then dashed up the stairs to his dormitory.

The other boys were fast asleep, their snores filling the room. Tip-toeing across to his bed, Harry stuffed the invisibility cloak into his trunk and then bundled up the covers from his bed. It was a little tricky manoeuvering back down the stairs with them; he had to hold them to one side and crane his neck around so he could see the steep steps in front of him.

Luna was just where he had left her, curled up on the sofa, eyes closed now, sleeping deeply. As he stood looking down at her, Harry found himself smiling and wasn’t entirely sure why.

He tucked the bed covers carefully around her, being sure to cover her bare feet. When she was wrapped up he started to move back, but was stopped by warm pressure against his fingers. Looking down he saw her hand had caught his in her sleep, and refused to let go when he tried to pull away.

He looked around, but couldn’t see an armchair close enough to sit in. He bit his lip, then, not seeing any other option, gently reached down and lifted Luna’s head up so he could squeeze on to the sofa himself. Then he was able to prop Luna’s head on his lap, a pillow cushioning her, and drape the arm attached to the hand she was holding across her.

Resigned to spending the night like this, he leaned back into the sofa and just hoped she wouldn’t mind when she woke up. Luna’s hand was soft in his, and despite the fact that she had been asleep since he had found her it helped him feel more connected than he had to anyone for a while. Perhaps it was because she was asleep. Or perhaps it was because it was Luna, who demonstrated unshakeable faith in him every time they spoke.

Without meaning to, Harry found his eyes tracing her face as she slept. She looked so … peaceful, in a way Harry couldn’t ever remember feeling. She was always serene, drifting around the castle with a dreamy smile, but this went beyond that somehow.

It was strangely soothing to watch her, and feel the weight of her hand in his. His own eyes started sliding closed, his breathing evening out, unless there was nothing but warm, welcoming darkness.

***

He was pulled back to wakefulness by the feel of Luna’s fingers slipping from his, leaving his hand cold and empty. He blinked away, rubbing an arm across his face only to realise he was still wearing his glasses and had knocked them askew.

“Harry?” 

Luna’s soft voice drew his attention. She was still curled up with her head on his lap, blearily rubbing her eyes, and looked confused. They were the only two in the common room, so it must still have been night - or rather, very early morning.

“Where am I?”

“The Gryffindor Common Room.” Harry pushed his glasses back into place and sat up straighter in his chair. “I, uh, I found you sleepwalking in the hall and I didn’t know where else to bring you …”

She took that in, then pushed herself into a sitting position with his blankets still wrapped around her. Mild curiosity flitted over her face as she took in her surroundings, the red-and-gold decor, the squashy furniture and the fireplace.

“That’s interesting. I used to sleepwalk as a child, but I haven’t done it for years. I wonder why I started again?” she said musingly, then focused on Harry. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I suppose I should head back.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t want Luna wandering on her own around the castle in the middle of the night. “It’s still late. You might as well stay until the morning, so you don’t get into trouble.”

“Okay then,” she said, “If you’re sure.”

She smiled when he nodded and then, to his surprise, she lay back down; putting her head back on the pillow resting on his knees, she curled up close and spread the blankets across to cover both of them.

Harry wasn’t at all sure what to say, or do, and settled for a quietly confused, “Luna …?”

“I was very comfortable when I woke up,” she explained, taking his hand in hers again. “I thought I’d try and get some more sleep. If you don’t mind …?”

He thought about that for a moment, and found he didn’t mind at all. He had been comfortable too, and more relaxed than he had been for a long time.

“No. No, I don’t mind.”

He felt her relax against him, and found himself smiling again. He let himself slump back into the sofa cushions, remembering to take his glasses off this time with his free hand, closed his eyes, and just before sleep took him again he thought that this was how it felt to be at peace and not feel angry - and how he would like to feel this way more often.


	16. To Hell With It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Strikhedonia - the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it"

For as long he had known her, Luna had been surprising Harry. Even after nearly a decade, when he thought he could say he knew her better than just about anybody, she would say or do things he didn’t expect. Like now, when the rain started battering the roof and windows of the pub they were sat in with their friends as the heavens outside opened, she looked up eagerly, eyes bright, and dashed to the door.

Bemused, Harry and the others followed and from the safety of the doorway watched her run out into the middle of the downpour. Water sluiced down in an unrelenting hail of silver, turning her hair a dark gold and plastering her clothes to her small, slender frame. She stretched her arms out, palms facing upwards and fingers slightly curled like she wanted to try and catch the rain falling all around her. Her head was tilted up to the sky, eyes closed and lips curved into a wide smile, raindrops tracing the contours of her cheeks and clinging to her eyelashes like tiny shards of crystal.

For a few moments she just stood like that, opening herself up to the storm, then she started to spin slowly around, twisting her arms around above her head like she did when she was warding off wrackspurts. She was heedless of the stares she was attracting, from people outside running with umbrellas and jackets over their head to find shelter in shops or pubs, and from the people inside, their friends crowding beside Harry and the other patrons staring curiously though the window.

“What is she doing?” Harry heard someone ask.

“She’s getting soaked!”

“I don’t think she cares.”

No, she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she would be soaked to the bone, and she didn’t care that other people wouldn’t understand.

Harry had been fascinated by that when they first met at school, felt a strange kind of twisting envy at the way she was able to look past the way other people saw. It wasn’t a struggle, a fight to shrug it off or move past it; she just simply didn’t give a damn.

Watching her had helped him find the resolve to face the whispers and stares that followed him every day, had taught him that there could be pleasure in straightening your shoulders, holding your head high and saying, _To hell with it. I know who I am and I don’t care what you think._

Which was why when Luna turned in the rain to look at him and held out her hands in a silent request he didn’t hesitate, but joined her in laughing, twirling and sliding around in the torrential downpour. The cold water slithering down the back of his neck and obscuring his glasses didn’t matter, nor did stares he could feel aimed at him. Nothing could ever matter as much as the girl in front of him, and way he felt she smiled.

To hell with everything else.


	17. House Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry and Luna go to see James II's first Inter-House Quidditch final: Gryffindor v Ravenclaw. Luna being Luna, makes no attempt to hide her house pride whatsoever, much to her son's chagrin.

The tension in the changing rooms was palpable. The air itself seemed stretched taut, like a bow string pulled back ready for the arrow to fly. James’ fingers trembled slightly with a mixture of nerves and excitement as he pulled on his Quidditch robes, and he smoothed the red-and-gold material down several more times than was strictly necessary until they felt steady. 

The rest of the team was just as on edge; he shared a shaky smile with his best friend Dominique, who had plaited and re-plaited her long, strawberry-blonde hair several times over now. Their seventh year captain was pacing up and down, his mouth set into a hard line. No doubt he was silently going over tactics and strategies; this was the first final Gryffindor had been in for three years and winning it would be the perfect end to Izzy’s final year at Hogwarts.

James was feeling the pressure for an entirely different reason. Although it was his third year on the team, it was the first time he had been in the final. Half his family were going to be in the stands, cheering him on. Even his parents were coming to watch, which inevitably meant the stands would be even more packed the usual as no-one would miss a chance to glimpse Harry Potter in person.

Feeling the nerves rising again, James slipped out of the suddenly claustrophobic changing rooms to get a breath of fresh air. He started pacing himself, and had walked around in a small circle when he heard his name being called.

“James!”

He turned, and saw his younger brother and sister approach. They were both wearing identical grins, and it was a comfort to see their faces even if they were in the blue-and-bronze of Ravenclaw, whose team James would shortly be playing against.

“We came to wish you good luck,” Lily said as she hugged him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, just stretching,” he shrugged, ruffling her caramel-coloured hair. He glanced over at Lorcan, whose green eyes were bright with mischief. “Luck, huh?”

Lorcan grinned. “Sort of. I want you to do well, obviously. But I also want Ravenclaw to win, which by extension means I also need you to lose …” He wrinkled his nose, which despite his striking resemblance to their father made him look very like their mother. “Does that make me a terrible brother?”

“The worst,” James agreed, flinging an arm around his shoulders. “So, are Mum and Dad here yet?”

His brother and sister exchanged a glance.

“Yes … they’ll be here in a minute. Pandy’s with them, too.” Their youngest sibling, Pandora, was only seven, not old enough yet to attend Hogwarts. 

“But …?”

“But we thought we should warn you. Mum’s, um, dressed up for the occasion.”

James would have asked what Lorcan meant, but after fifteen years he knew well enough. Nor, as it turned out, would Lorcan have had time to answer, as a moment later their parents appeared around the corner, Pandora in between them holding both their hands.

Seeing his mother’s get-up for himself, James paled. “Merlin’s _pants_.”

Luna Potter, it had to be said, was not known for the subtlety of her fashion sense, but even so she had outdone herself. Her robes were Ravenclaw blue, embroidered top to bottom with shining bronze eagles, and miniature golden snitches dangled from her ears. Most spectacular though, was her headdress; her hair was braided up into a knot, holding in place on top of her head an intricately worked bronze tiara in the shape of a large eagle with its wings stretched back and beak open. It honestly looked like a real bird was perched on top of his mother’s head, about to take flight. (And knowing her, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was bewitched to do just that).

“She, uh, she does remember I’m playing for Gryffindor?” he finally managed in a strained voice.

“You do remember she was in Ravenclaw?” Lorcan replied, though he looked disconcerted himself.

James groaned and looked away, expression pained. “I do love her, don’t I?”

Lily snorted and lightly hit his arm with the back of her hand. “Yes, James. Yes, you do.”

There was so chance to respond, as their parents were now in earshot. Their father, thankfully, was dressed entirely normally, and gave James a knowing smile as he pulled him into a hug.

“I did persuade her to tone it down a bit,” Harry murmured in James’ ear, much to his son’s horror. This was _toned down_?

Much as he complained, though, he did love his mother, and there was nothing quite as soothing as hugging her and smelling the familiar, soft scent of her. It immediately quelled his nerves, and made him feel like nothing could go wrong.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Good luck today.” She smiled at him, smoothing his hair down. “I’m looking forward to seeing your match.”

There was nothing but pride and love in her eyes as she looked at him, and James suddenly got the feeling that despite her clothes she would be cheering for Gryffindor. No doubt everyone in the crowds would be terribly confused.

“Thanks.”

A tug on his hand made him look down, where Pandora was smiling up at him. He noticed the wide gap where one of her baby teeth had fallen out, which she had written excitedly to him about him the week before.

“James! James! Do you like my hat? I’m cheering for Gryffindor!”

He realised then that his mum wasn’t the only one dressed up. Over her dark curls Pandora was wearing a large hat shaped like a lion, its mane filled with red-and-gold streamers fluttering in the wind.

“It’s great!” He nodded enthusiastically, much to his sister’s pleasure. She beamed, and then had her attention diverted by Lily, who was telling their mother excitedly about her first year at Hogwarts.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his father standing behind him.

“Your mother wore that hat to one of my matches against Slytherin. I didn’t realise she still had it,” Harry said musingly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

“She did?” James wanted to laugh at the image. 

Harry grinned. “Yep. And look I know the way she’s dressed might seem a bit much. But let me just say from experience …” He paused a moment, to check Luna couldn’t hear, and then lowered his voice, “Be glad she’s not commentating.”


	18. Green-Eyed Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Harry jerked back to stare at Ron, almost dropping his drink in surprise. He felt his mouth drop open involuntarily and his eyes widen a fraction. For a moment he was frozen, his spin unnaturally stiff; then he gave a short, awkward shake of his head as if to deny the accusation. 

Jealous? No. Harry knew - he knew - that jealousy was a pointless emotion. It was painful and irrational and would never lead to anything good. Jealousy was an ugly, insecure emotion, and it definitely wasn’t what Harry was feeling.

A high, musical laugh dragged his eyes back across the room to where Luna was talking animatedly with some young wizarding naturalist, a tall, broad-shouldered young man who was annoyingly handsome as he grinned flirtatiously down at her.

The sight made Harry’s stomach clench with something that wasn’t quite anger and wasn’t quite fear but something inbetween, something that uncurled in a cold spiral and made him clench his free hand into a fist so tight that his nails bit painfully into his palm. He welcome the ache, though; it was a distraction from the sudden urge to hit something or snarl at someone that sat beneath his skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“You _are_.” He heard the grin in Ron’s voice, and turned to spear him with a glare. That, unfortunately, just seemed to amuse Ron more.

“No. I’m not,” Harry managed to growl out.

Because being jealous would be the height of stupidity. Because Luna was his girlfriend and had been for nearly a year and he _trusted_ her so there was no reason for him to feel jealous.

He just didn’t want another man looking at her like that.

Ron snorted. “Harry, you look ready to murder someone. You’re jealous.”

Harry gritted his teeth, then took a slow breath to calm himself. “… maybe a little.”

He wasn’t quite sure why he was so embarrassed to be jealous. He had felt jealousy before and he knew that, of all his friends, Ron would be the most understanding. But admitting it left him feeling strangely vulnerable, exposing part of himself he would rather remain hidden, and he hated that feeling.

“A little what?”

Startled, Harry span around to find Luna stood in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed her finishing her conversation and making her away across the room to him; odd, given how acutely aware he had been of her movements for the rest of the evening.

“Is everything alright?” she continued, looking from him to Ron with faint concern and bemusement.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Ron jumped in before he could speak. “Fine, fine, Harry’s just feeling jealous, that’s all. Oh, I think Hermione wants me - I’ll leave you to it, then.”

And he was gone as quickly as if he had apparated away.

“Jealous?” Luna fixed her eyes on Harry. “Why are you feeling jealous?”

“I’m not, I just, um.” Harry struggled for something to say before questions borne of jealousy clawed their way out of his throat, but to his horror he heard himself demanding, “Who was that you were talking to?”

Her eyebrows rose up a little, but she answered lightly, “Rolf Scamander. He read that last paper I published on the nesting habits of nargles and was interested in my research.”

“I bet he was,” Harry muttered.

Not quietly enough, though. “Harry?”

A flush crept up his neck. “Sorry. I just mean - I’m sure he was interested - but - he was _flirting_ with you.”

He wanted to grab the words and shovel them back into his mouth as soon as they escaped, but it was too late for that.

Luna blinked, and cocked her head to the side in a birdlike manner as she answered. “And?”

“And?” Harry started at her. He knew he didn’t have an answer - not a rational one, not a logical one, one that he could give without sounding awful but he couldn’t stop himself. “And it made me jealous, okay? I don’t want other people looking at you like that! I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid and unfair and ridiculous. But I don’t.” 

There was a moment of heavy silence, and Harry felt his stomach slowly sinking until it felt level with his shoes. Could he have sounded like any more of a prat?

But then Luna stepped closer to him and, instead of telling him off like he deserved, lifted herself on to her tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck.

“Harry. I can’t stop people looking at me. Or flirting.”

“I know, I’m so-”

She brought a finger to his lips, and when he was quiet she returned her arm to around his neck.

“But,” she said, smiling with a softness and tenderness that made Harry’s chest tighten, warmth spilling through him. “I can promise that you’re the only person I’ll ever look back at.”

And suddenly everything was right with the world again. Smiling himself, his brought his hand up to her waist.

“Then I’ll try my best not to feel jealous any more,” he promised, and lowered his head to kiss her.


	19. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry asks Luna out after attending hers and Hermione's leavers' celebrations at Hogwarts.

The early afternoon sunlight streamed, slanted and golden, through the windows of the Great Hall. It picked out the warm, honeyed tones of the wood panelling in the walls and gave the metallic thread of the banners hung from the ceiling. For once those banners represented all four Hogwarts Houses, and in the centre, over the staff table at the end of the hall, the largest banner of all showed the Hogwarts Crest - lion, eagle, badger and snake all curled around the large letter ‘H’.

Although Harry was glad to be back - even after more than a year there was a still sense of homecoming when he walked through the castle doors, a feeling of belonging that settled over him when he looked round - it was strange to be sat at the Gryffindor table without being in his school robes. It was even more strange to be celebrating the fact that the seventh years, a mix of his own classmates and students from the year below, had finished their time at Hogwarts when he hadn’t. Not officially, anyway. It was a little taste of what he had missed by opting not to come back but go straight into Auror training.

He hadn’t really known what to expect from today, so it had surprised him when it was so much like other celebrations at Hogwarts: a speech from the Headmistress congratulating the seventh years on finishing their exams and of doing the school so proud over their years as students,(a pang of grief hit him when McGongall stood up at the podium rather than Dumbledore, but truthfully she probably made more sense than Dumbledore would have done) and a feast prepared by the house elves in the kitchens.

The main difference was that it was only the seventh years and their friends and family present, instead of the normal sea of black school robes and pointed hats. There was also a subtle difference to the atmosphere, though Harry had a hard time putting his finger on exactly what it was. The excitement and energy of any feast was the same; the low buzz of conversation and laughter, the bright eyes and smiles. But there was a kind of relief softening it, a sense of relaxation and accomplishment. This wasn’t just the celebration of a holiday or saying goodbye for a few weeks. This was a final hurrah, a recognition of everything they had achieved.

The food was almost all gone by now, half-eaten puddings and empty plates covering the tables. People had starting moving around the hall, going to talk to friends from other Houses and introduce them to their families. Harry, sat with Ron and the Grangers, didn’t think he had ever seen Hermione so relaxed. She was leaning into Ron, who had his arm around her shoulders, laughing with her parents as they told some anecdote from her childhood. Her cheeks were flushed but her eyes were dancing, and Harry could hardly believe this was the same girl who a few weeks ago had been sending him and Ron panicked letters over her N.E.W.Ts.

The Weasleys were on the Grangers’ other side with Ginny, who was talking excitedly with her brothers about her upcoming tryout for the Holyhead Harpies. There was a few others from Harry’s year around as well, who had wandered over at various points during the afternoon to congratulate Hermione or Ginny and say hello to Harry and Ron - coming back after everything that had happened seemed to have encouraged them all to reach out and become closer. The one person Harry had wanted to see, though, (other than Hermione and Ginny), had so far only waved from across the hall, so after excusing himself he got up and made his own way over the Ravenclaw table.

Luna was just polishing off her apple and blackberry crumble when he sat down next to her. She was swinging her legs beneath the table, her long blonde curls pulled up into a knot at the base of her neck and smiled up at him as he approached. Harry’s heart gave a single, solid thump against his ribs.

“Hey, you,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than it felt.

“Hello, Harry.” Luna finished the last bite of her pudding and pushed the empty dish away. “It was nice of you to come today.”

Harry lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Wouldn’t miss it. Where’s your dad?”

She pointed, and Harry saw the familiar tall, blond figure by one wall talking to … Hagrid?

“He wanted to talk to him about expanding the Care of Magical Creatures curriculum,” Luna explained, seeing the expression of confusion on Harry’s face. “He thinks Hagrid should included Nargles and Wrackspurts, and different breeds of Snorkack as well.”

Harry could just imagine how well that conversation was going. “Ah. Right. So how do you feel about being finished, now?”

She considered that for a moment, her mouth pulled thoughtfully to one side. With an effort, Harry pulled his gaze away from her lips, but meeting her clear grey eyes didn’t exactly help the nervous fluttering somewhere low in his abdomen.

“It will be strange, not coming back next year. But it will be exciting to start something new. I don’t think I’ll really feel finished finished until I get my N.E.W.T results, though.”

Harry grinned. “Hermione said the same thing. Although with a bit more anxiety.”

“She does worry about marks a lot.”

“You don’t?”

He was stalling and he knew it, but nerves were beating at him and he needed the few minutes of normal conversation to compose himself. He would ask her soon, when it didn’t feel like the words would stick in his throat and refuse to come out.

Luna shrugged. “It’s nice to do well. But it’s not the end of the world if I don’t.” 

Somehow that didn’t surprise Harry. Luna had always been a serene, accepting person, and that included accepting when things didn’t go her way. That was something Harry had always struggled with, and he admired it in her. It was one of the many things he admired about her.

She looked up at him, eyes crinkling a little at the corners as she smiled, one stray curl falling across her forehead and over one eyebrow. Harry felt a rush of tenderness, and for a moment just held his breath as he looked at her. He had to do it now, he knew.

“So, listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” She turned towards him on the bench, looking interested.

Trying to ignore the racing of his pulse, he nodded. “Yeah. Well. I was kind of hoping … I could take you out to dinner, or something, sometime.”

_Well done, Harry. That was very eloquent. Poetic, even. Nothing vague or ambiguous about that._

Luna tilted her head, brows drawing together curiously. “That sounds nice. You mean as friends?”

“Ah. No. I meant, maybe, as a date. If you wanted.” He paused a moment. “I’m asking you on a date.”

Her eyes widened a fraction, and for a second that seemed to stretch out into eternity - an eternity where Harry’s nerves were stretched taut and his insides seemed to have turned to ice - she was quiet. Then she smiled; a tiny, gentle, secret smile that was like sunshine warming him through.

“I’d like that. For it to be a date.”

“Oh. Good.” Harry smiled back, his shoulders slumping as the tension drained out of him.

Tentatively he reached out to take her hand. Her skin was soft under his, and her fingers comfortably intertwined with his.

“It’s a date then.”


	20. Party People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Harry and Luna meet at a Halloween costume party AU.

“Remind me again why I’m here?”

Harry had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. Surround sound speakers had been placed in all four corners of the room, and the bass-heavy dance mix that was playing turned up to full volume, vibrating through the walls and making it impossible to hear anything that was being said.

Not that anyone else was really trying to talk. Most of the people at the party were too busy dancing, drinking and occasionally disappearing into dark corners with other party guests to talk.

Beside him, Ron shrugged and leaned in to half-shout in his ear, “Because my little sister strong armed me into coming, so you had to come too.”

The little sister in question was on the other side of the room, dressed as Jessie from Toy Story, dancing with someone Harry thought might be a character from Star Wars. According to Ron, Ginny had been worried about just how many people would come to her friend’s Halloween party so had asked them to come and fill out the numbers a bit. Looking around at the sizeable crowd, Harry suspected she was more worried about her brother’s social life and had invited them because she thought they would otherwise spend Halloween at home eating pizza and playing video games.

Which, to be fair, they probably would have.

It wasn’t that Harry objected to going to parties or socialising. He just preferred to go to parties where he actually knew the people who were there.

“It’s not so bad,” Ron was continuing, his eyes not on Harry but on Hermione, who he had also persuaded to come and who had chosen to dress up as Lara Croft.

Snorting quietly to himself, Harry just gave Ron a gentle shove towards her.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he announced, and headed to the kitchen without bothering to look back.

The good thing about house parties was that you could briefly escape the crush and the noise by going to a different room, or even outside if the house had a garden. The kitchen, in this case, while not empty since drinks and cups had been set out on the counter, was thankfully cooler and quieter than the living room had been. Pouring himself a drink, Harry glanced at the clock hanging overhead and wondered if he could come up with a plausible excuse to leave.

Alternatively, he could try and have fun, maybe even talk to someone, he mused, that could be interesting …

Absorbed in his thoughts, he wasn’t paying attention to the room around him and didn’t notice there was anyone behind him until he started turning round and instead walked straight into someone, small and solid.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there –” Harry stumbled backwards, thankful for his quick reflexes as he managed to catch his drink before it spilled everywhere.

“That’s alright,” a dreamy voice answered him, “I’m sure you were deep in thought.”

Sure he wasn’t going to drop his drink, Harry looked up to focus on the speaker - and was momentarily stunned into silence by the pair of grey eyes looking back at him. They were wide, clear as new-polished glass, and seemed filled with frank honesty and curiosity. Harry had never seen eyes like them before.

Their owner was a girl his age, maybe a little younger, with long blonde hair held back by a black hairband. She was wearing a light blue dress with short puffed sleeves and a bell skirt that just brushed the tops of her knees. A white apron was tied around her waist, and Harry stared for longer than was probably appropriate at her white, knee-high stockings before bringing his eyes back up to her face.

“Er. Yeah, I s’pose I was,” he said in response to her earlier comment.

She nodded as if she had expected nothing less. “You had that look about you.”

Realisng he was blocking her way to the counter, he sidestepped with another apology. “Did you want to get a drink?”

She looked thoughtfully at the counter for a moment, as though she hadn’t quite decided yet, then moved across and started pouring herself a glass of lemonade. As she did so, she asked airily over her shoulder, “So do you save the world a lot, then?”

Harry was nonplussed until he remembered his costume. He had wanted something that involved a minimum of effort, so he’d put on the Superman t-shirt he already owned and added a half-buttoned-up shirt over the top - immediate Clark Kent costume with a minimum of fuss, and that also meant his glasses were part of the costume and he didn’t have to deal with the nightmare that was wearing contact lenses.

“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” he grinned, and was rewarded a bright smile and a giggle that made the air leave his lungs. He had to take a moment to catch his breath before he could speak again. “So you’re … Alice in Wonderland?”

She nodded, and gave a little twirl. “I always liked the book. And it seemed appropriate. A lot of Ginny’s friends think I’m a little odd, you know.”

Somehow that didn’t entirely surprise Harry. There was something about her, the way she held herself, with a birdlike tilt to her head, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle with some untold knowledge, the way she spoke like each word was a half-formed thought, that he could understand why she might get pegged as a bit odd. But he couldn’t say he found it offputting. If anything, he found her incredibly interesting.

“Odd’s underrated, in my opinion.”

She smiled at him again and he was suddenly grateful to Ron for dragging him along tonight.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

“Luna.” 

It was different and beautiful and it suited her perfectly.

“So … if you’re not too afraid I’ll knock you over or tread on your toes, do you want to dance?”

Luna thought it over, then nodded. “I think I’d like that.”


	21. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: things you said through your teeth

It’s the feeling of the bed moving as Harry leaves it that wakes Luna. Regular sleepless nights have attuned her to the slightest changes; the dip of the mattress when Harry pushes himself into a sitting position, the faint creak as it springs back when he gets up completely.

Rolling over, eyes half-closed, she searches the room for him. It’s still the darkest part of the night, the shadows veiling everything in grey. She spots his silhouette against the window, staring out into the darkness. One hand reaches up to his face, and she knows he’s pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, focusing on taking long, slow breaths.

The nightmares have gotten better over the years, and no longer come as often, but she knows they’ll never leave him entirely.

She levers herself up on to one elbow, ignoring the chill as the covers slip down her shoulder. She asks quietly, so as not to startle him, “How bad is it?”

“Bad.” His voice his strained, the word clipped, so she can tell it’s coming out from between gritted teeth. He hisses slightly, letting out a breath, then says brokenly, still in that strained tone, “Every time I think they’ve stopped … every time … but they always come _back_.”

He punctuates the last word with a punch to the wall, sudden and violent. His knuckles will be bruised in the morning. 

Luna doesn’t flinch. She knows every inch of him, inside and out, including the anger, which as permanent in its way as the scar on his forehead. Most of the time he channels it into his work, using it to fuel his drive to help people. But on nights like tonight it can build up, until it has to come out.

She’s not afraid, though. The only person he ever turns it on is himself. She wishes he would be as gentle with himself as he is with other people.

Pushing the covers back entirely, she climbs out of bed and crosses the room to stand behind him. She wraps her arms around his waist and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re stronger than the memories. You’ll make it through this, too.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand covers hers and squeezes gently, and that simple gesture says more to her than words ever could.


	22. From Miles Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: things you said over the phone

The phone had been ringing for over thirty seconds now, and Harry was sure it was going to ring out when Luna’s voice came over the line, soft and dreamy as always. “Hello?”

“Hey, Luna. It’s Harry.”

“I thought it probably was. Your name came up on the screen, you know.” Her voice was thoughtful, curious, and briefly became faint and distant before coming back. “It still is. It’s very clever the way it knows that.”

Harry grinned, and felt an ache he hadn’t quite realised was there recede somewhere in his vicinity of his chest. “Yeah. I programmed my number in before you left, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

He still wasn’t entirely sure why he had suggested mobile phones when she was packing for her magizoology tour of Europe. Somehow the thought of waiting days for a letter to reach him seemed too much. Luckily she was intrigued when he explained the concept of mobile phones to her, and readily agreed to go with him to get one.

In the weeks she had been away she hadn’t quite figured out text messages or email, but she had managed to send him a few photos (albeit one or two were obscured by her fingertips and at least one was just of her shoes). It wasn’t the same as talking to her though.

“So where are you now?” he asked, wanting to picture where she was and what she was doing.

“Romania, at the moment. Close to Bucharest. I’ll be here a few more days, then head south down through Bulgaria to Turkey.” 

“Seen anything interesting?”

There was a pause and a rustle of what sounded like paper. She had told him in one broken text that she was keeping journals of everything she saw and did, and he could imagine her flicking through one now. “Lots of things. I thought I saw some signs of an umgubular slashkilter yesterday.”

Harry had no idea was an umgubular slashkilter was, but he didn’t really care as long as she was happy. “I miss you.”

There was a wistfulness in her tone as she replied, “Me too.”


	23. Wish Upon a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: things you said under the stars and in the grass

“Do you have a favourite?” Luna’s voice was dreamy, curious, just a little way below his ear. She must have turned her head towards him, because Harry could feel her warm breath tickling his cheek.

“A favourite?” Harry repeated, blinking up at the expanse of darkness above them, scattered across with brilliant shards of light. “A favourite star?”

A breeze wafted gently over them, trailing through the grass and tangling in their hair. Luna made a quiet noise of assent, her chin bumping against his shoulder.

“Aren’t they all the same?”

“Oh, no.” He could only just make out the line of her profile out of the corner of his eye, but he could imagine the wide-eyed expression she would be wearing. “They’re all different. Their light is slightly different.”

“Oh. Do you have a favourite?”

Her arm came up to hover over them, and Harry followed the line of her pointing finger to a small, glittering white light that stood a little way apart in one corner of the sky.

“It’s more golden,” she explained. Personally Harry thought it looked the same as the others, but he believed that, to her, it wasn’t.

Reaching up, Harry pulled her hand back down, lacing his fingers with hers where they rested between their bodies.

Somewhere distantly a bird was singing, but everything around them seemed hushed. It felt like for this brief space in times there was nothing else in the world; just them, and the night sky, and the ground beneath them.

“You know, muggles have a tradition of wishing on stars.”

“Do they? On a specific star or on all of them?”

“I think it varies,” Harry admitted. “We could make a wish, anyway.” 

Luna was quiet for a moment, then rolled on to her side so her head came to rest on his chest and her far hand held his upper arm. Their legs tangled together and she whispered, “I already have everything I would wish for.”

Smiling, Harry leaned down to brush a kiss against her temple. “So do I.”


	24. Never Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: things you said when you were crying

Harry wasn’t sure what time it was when he gave up on getting to sleep. Getting up, he crept past the still forms of Ron and Hermione, both of whom had practically passed out, exhausted, as soon as they had lain down, and out into the hallway.

The air was filled with a kind of hush; not quite silent, with the distant sound of the sea breaking against the shore outside, but quiet, like the world was holding its breath. Shell Cottage seemed smaller in the darkness somehow, the walls closing in, oppressive, out of the blackness. 

The stairs creaked quietly under Harry’s feet as he tip-toed down to the living room with some vague, half-formed idea of going for a walk. He paused at the bottom, listening for any sounds of movement in case he had woken anyone, but nothing came.

But as he entered the living room itself he realised he wasn’t the only one awake. A figure was huddled in one corner, silhouette picked out by the moonlight coming through the window. Harry stopped, startled, then frowned and whispered, “Luna?”

“Hello, Harry.” She turned towards him so her face entered the light and was cast into relief. Her long blonde curls were scraped into a thick, haphazard plait that fell over one shoulder, and in the dim light she looked paler than usual, the bruises and cuts on her skin standing sharply out. What really caught Harry’s attention, though, were the tear tracks glistening beneath her eyes.

Harry drew in a breath, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. He had never seen Luna cry before, never even imagined her crying; she didn’t seem the type, somehow. Not out of any particular toughness or fierceness, but because she had such a quiet strength and optimism, it was difficult to imagine anything breaking through that.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she explained, voice still low, barely carrying across the room.

“Me neither.” Crossing the room, he lowered himself down to sit next to her, then asked, “Are you … do you want to talk about it?”

There was a long pause, and he found himself almost afraid of her answer. If she had lost hope, he somehow had the notion the foundations of his own world would crack.

“I was … very afraid,” she finally said. “In Malfoy Manor. I did my best to be brave, but I was so afraid of what might happen.”

“I don’t think being brave means you’re not afraid. I’m always afraid.”

She looked at him with thoughtful eyes. “Are you?”

He nodded. “Ollivander … he said you comforted him and Griphook. You gave them hope.”

“They needed it.”

Perhaps they had, but so did she. She gave given hope to them, as she as she had to Harry so many times. Who gave it to her?

“Did you think no one would come?”

“I knew someone would, if they could. I didn’t know if they would be in time, though.” Pulling her sleeve down over her hand, she used it to wipe away her tears. “I knew they might eventually decide I wasn’t useful any more.”

The simple truth of her words was painful to hear. Without really thinking, Harry reached out for her and, finding her hand, laced his fingers with her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he whispered.

“You have more important things to worry about.”

A part of him wanted to rail against that. That there should be anything more important that rescuing someone he cared about. He hated that he couldn’t deny it even if he was, really, trying to rescue everyone he cared about. It still meant he might have to leave someone alone, in danger, for the hope of ending this all in the future.

In the end, all he could say was, “I will always come for you, Luna.” It wasn’t a promise that he would be in time, or that he wouldn’t have to prioritise other things first, but he would try. He wouldn’t ever leave her to suffer.

There was pause, then she wrapped her free hand around his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know you will.”


	25. We Made It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lunarry at the beach at sunset, watching the waves and contemplating life

There was something incredibly soothing about watching the waves break over the sand in a slow, steady rhythm. The sun hung low in the sky overhead, painting the world in soft golds and oranges, glittering off the surface of the sea as it stretched back towards the horizon.

This late in the evening there was no one else around, the only sound the crash of water and the high calling of the gulls that soared overhead. Sat leaning back against the rocks that enclosed the small beach, with Luna’s head resting in his lap, Harry felt like they were alone in the world.

He ran his fingers absently through her hair, enjoying the soft, silky feel of it against his skin. Luna’s eyes were half closed but he could tell from the smile on her face that she was still awake.

“Did you ever think we’d make it here?” he asked suddenly. 

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t have? It’s not a particularly difficult journey to the beach,” Luna asked musingly, a faintly teasing note to her words. 

Harry smiled. “Not here, at the beach. Here as in … _life_ here. Together, safe … happy. Did you ever think we’d make it?”

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him quietly for a few moments. There was wealth of silent understanding, compassion and love in her gaze, a whole conversation’s worth of words unspoken but that he heard anyway. “You thought we wouldn’t?”

“Not always.” He shrugged, twisted a curl of her hair around one finger. “For most of my life, when I thought about the future, I don’t know that I really saw one. Not a happy one. It was either fighting, or nothing. Sometimes when I wake up I still expect to be back there.”

She reached up and laid a hand gently against his face, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. He turned his head to press a light kiss to her palm.

“You went through so much. More than most people face in a lifetime, and you never knew if there would be an end to it. I think anyone in that position would find it hard to see a future.”

“Did you ever doubt?”

She nodded. “Yes. But I always hoped.”

“How?”

He had always marvelled at her ability to hope. Most days it was sheer determination that drove him rather than any kind of optimism, and whenever he had truly hovered on the edge of despair it had been her hope and gentle encouragement that had pulled him back.

“My mother always said life has a way of balancing out. Whenever things seem truly bad, life will turn things around somehow. You just have to hold on.” 

Harry considered that. “Does it work the other way as well?”

“Yes. That’s what balance is.”

“But we’ve been through the worst now.”

Luna smiled. “Yes, we have. But that doesn’t mean there won’t still be challenges and obstacles in our future.”

Our future. It was amazing how two such simple words could make his heart swell until it felt like his chest could no longer contain it. “Minor challenges though, right?”

She laughed, then took his hand and guide it to rest on the rising curve of her stomach. “Well, they say having children is one of the greatest challenges life has to offer. So we might want to prepare ourselves.”


	26. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “you kissed me on the playground the day before you moved away in the 4th grade and now your dorm is right across the hall from mine” au

Although their study sessions had become a regular thing, a ripple of gentle surprise still ran through Harry every time he looked across to see Luna sprawled out on his dorm room floor, legs waving in the air, humming softly to herself as she went over her notes.

It was just so unlikely that ten years after they had last seen each other he would move his things into his university dorm and go to introduce himself to the person in the room opposite, only to find a familiar pair of grey eyes smiling up at him and a voice saying as if they had been hanging out only yesterday, “Hello, Harry.” 

And yet, here they were.

Luna was thoroughly absorbed in her work, highlighting sentences in her textbook before making amendments to her notes, but Harry’s eyes kept wandering from the book he was supposed to be reading back to her. 

Her hair was pulled to one side in a slightly messy French braid, though a few curling blonde strands had worked their way loose and fellow around her face; it was the same style her hair had been in the last day he had seen her, when they were nine years old and standing on the school playground. 

“I’m moving tomorrow. This is probably the last time we’ll see each other,” she had said solemnly. “So goodbye, Harry. I hope you have a happy life.”

She had stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a quick, soft kiss, then turned and walked away and that had been that.

Until now.

Twirling his pen in his hands, Harry wondered, not the first time, if Luna ever thought about that day. She had never mentioned it. The way she acted, they might never have said goodbye in the first place.

He had never asked about it, first because he so surprised to have her in his life again and then, when they settled back into their easy friendship, because he thought it might be awkward. And, maybe, because he didn’t want to hear her say she had forgotten, or it didn’t mean anything.

But more and more, he wanted to know.

“Luna.” He kept his eyes on his hands. “Do you … remember the last time we saw each other?”

“Of course I do. It was only yesterday.”

Harry smiled. “No, I mean, before uni. When we were at school.” 

He glanced over at her. She had stopped writing and was watching him curiously, eyes bright. “Yes, I remember. It was sports day at school, and you and Ronald had won the three-legged race.”

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that.” He laughed, then looked at her again. “You said goodbye, and then you kissed me.”

Luna nodded. “I did.”

Harry paused, and then admitted, “That was my first kiss.”

“Mine too.”

“It was?”

She smiled. “I wanted it to be with someone I trusted. That’s why I chose you.”

“Oh.” 

Harry wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Pleased, and flattered that she trusted him that much. But also strangely disappointed. It was because she had _trusted_ him, not because she had _liked_ him. Perhaps it was stupid to expect there to be more to it than that when they had only been nine. 

Perhaps the problem was that he wanted there to be more now.

He took a breath. “I always kind of regretted not kissing you back, you know.”

Luna was quiet, then set her pen down and pushed herself up on to her knees. She moved so she was sat in front of Harry and waited until he met her gaze to say gently, “Maybe you could do it now.”

He hesitated only a moment. Her lips were warm and soft beneath his, and tasted like the biscuits they had been eating as they studied. Time seemed to slow, so although the kiss only lasted a few heartbeats it felt like an eternity. When he pulled back his hand had found hers, their fingers lacing together.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Harry said, voice low.

Luna smiled. “That’s alright. As long as you don’t keep me waiting that long again.”

“Not a chance,” he promised, already leaning back in to kiss her again.


	27. Feng Shui

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: one character trying to cheer the other up

Even tired and feeling low, Harry took a moment to appreciate the sight of a light already on in the window when he came home, the knowledge that there was someone who cared about him waiting. He wondered if there would ever be a day when he took it for granted.

He hung his key up on the hook next to the door and kicked his shoes off before making his way through to the living room. Luna was sat crossed-legged on the couch, surrounded by pieces of parchment from the latest draft of her book, but twisted round to look up at him as he came in. “Hi. How was your day?”

“Rough,” Harry admitted. “An operation didn’t quite go to plan, and one of the newbies got hurt. Badly. I should have seen it coming.”

Luna’s eyes softened in sympathy. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want dinner?” 

“No, I think I’m just going to go and have a shower.” He bent down to brush a kiss against her forehead. She smiled, but there was a frown behind it, and he could feel her gaze following him as he headed upstairs. 

The hot water sliding over his skin helped a little, washing away some of the exhaustion that seemed to have settled on his shoulders. Closing his eyes, Harry leaned his head against the tiles and tried to remember what it was like not to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

It was as he was getting out of the shower that he heard it - a loud clunking noise, like something heavy falling, coming from downstairs. He paused a moment, listening, and after a few seconds it came again.

Confused, he threw on an old tshirt and a pair of jeans and made his way back down to the living room, where he was met by the sight of Luna struggling to lift up one end of the couch. 

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, utterly bewildered, moving to grab the other end and help her before she ended up dropping it and hurting herself.

“Moving the furniture. I want it over there.”

She indicated the other side of the room with an airy wave of her hand, and Harry instinctively started obeying before it occurred to him to ask, “Er. Why?”

“I think a different arrangement will create better energy,” Luna explained. “Yes, here.”

“Better energy?”

She nodded, setting the couch down and stepping back to look at it. “Hmm. No, actually. On second thought, I think it needs to be further along.”

Harry had learned over the years that, unless there was an actual risk involved, it was easier just to go along with Luna’s impulses. So he sighed, but hefted the couch back up and shifted it along.

As they worked, Luna continued, “And yes, better energy. I was reading about it in one of Hermione’s books. It was called … what was it? … fing swee?”

“Feng Shui?”

“That’s it.” She beamed at him. “Now the chairs.”

“Why aren’t we using magic for this?”

Luan shrugged. “Personal satisfaction.”

There wasn’t really a response to that, except to cross over to the armchairs to move them. Harry lost track of time as they worked, sliding the chairs across the floor and then more tentatively moving the bookcases so the books wouldn’t fall out. Every so often Luna would step back and look at the room, shake her head, and they would start moving things again into a different arrangement - shoving the coffee table up against one wall, then pulling it back out to the centre of the room, dragging the rug to different parts of the floor, even rearranging the pictures on the wall. 

By the time they had finished it was near midnight, the sky outside the windows pitch black, and Harry was exhausted. It was a different kind of tiredness from the one he had carried home with him, his muscles aching from exertion rather than his mind wanting to give up. It was, as Luna had said, an oddly satisfying feeling. 

What was not so satisfying was looking at the final arrangement of the furniture that Luna had settled on.

“Luna.” Harry gestured at the room. “Everything is _exactly_ where it started.”

“Yes, it is,” she nodded.

“So how, exactly, is this going to give us better energy?”

Luna looked up at him, a sudden smile on her face, her eyes filled with a kind of affectionate amusement. “It took your mind off things, didn’t it?”

There wasn’t really a response to that, except to laugh.


End file.
